


Half doomed and semi sweet

by chailattemusings



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF
Genre: M/M, body horror cw, injury cw, neglect cw
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-05
Updated: 2014-11-06
Packaged: 2018-01-21 23:56:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 99,595
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1568537
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chailattemusings/pseuds/chailattemusings
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Gavin has spent the last month and a half on the streets, after being tossed out by the only owner he ever knew. As a homeless robot, he wanders, looking for shelter, while avoiding any humans that might decide he belongs in the trash heaps. His trials are ended when he stumbles upon one of the only repair shops in town that works on robots, and the young mechanic named Ryan Haywood who happens to be there.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. meltdown in the rain

**Author's Note:**

> This work was inspired by this post by shaunhastings on Tumblr: http://shaunhastings.tumblr.com/post/79531682335/au-where-gavin-is-disowned-robot-and-wasnt-good 
> 
> and this comic about robots (warning for body horror): http://kelpls.tumblr.com/post/80779063531/runaway-robot-breaks-into-a-workshop-to-fix-a

The rain sent him there. The last straw, the final push, to bring him out of the cold and deserted streets and into the warmth of a heated building. Whether he belonged there came second to his needs in that moment, shivering in alley ways with water dripping down his neck, shocking his systems as they leaked between circuitry and plastic. He could stand the abuse and the frayed wires and the tearing skin, but rain in his open wounds sent his panic skyrocketing and he stumbled down the sidewalks on quivering legs, searching for a place to go.

The first week hadn't been awful. Dirt and grime from the air and kicked up by the feet of people walking past him smeared Gavin's skin, and no one would look twice at him when they registered the bar code on his neck, the whirring of his eyes, but he could stand it. Shoved back and forth through crowds, tossed into the walls of buildings, smelling the sweat and pasty heat of the humans around him as he turned corner after corner of the scorching hot city for signs of shelter, he could stand it.

He found the first break in his skin in the second week, huddled cold and exhausted at the outdoor dining of a closed restaurant. His artificial breaths, part of the vents that regulated his temperature, came fast as he waited out the night, jumping at the sounds that might be a person walking by, someone who would throw him out of the shielded dining area and back in the street.

On the creaking metal of the chair he'd tucked himself in, he saw it, the tear of the skin on his arm. He couldn't tell at first glance what caused it, but Gavin quickly resolved to be more careful. With no owner to speak of, and apathy apparent in any human he met, he had no way to fix the cut.

Despite how careful he was, how much time he spent checking errant boxes for hidden dangers before holing up in them, the wide berth he learned to give people, and the way he made sure to catch himself on hands and knees and not let his vital parts hit the solid pavement and rock the motors in his chest like dice, Gavin couldn't avoid the damages. Slices and scraps dotted the silicone skin he wore like a polka dot pattern. If he were especially bored he connected them with imaginary lines and patterns, until his eyes couldn't focus anymore, internal systems giving high pitched whines at the struggle.

These injuries grew worse with time, exposing metal and eventually wires as he collected wear and tear through the elements. His vision started going fuzzy after a car knocked him down while he crossed the street, suddenly unable to register the face of the driver who screeched at him about green lights and what the hell he thought he was doing, how badly programmed must he be not to know basic traffic rules. Gavin avoided roads after that, which was just as well because his faulty eyesight wouldn't distinguish colors anymore and he would probably hurt himself again.

Without the main roads to go by, he turned down dark alleys and crept behind buildings, finding temporary homes with the one eyed cats and the dogs that reeked of dead things they rolled in. At night he slept beside dumpsters and trash cans and cooed softly to the strays who came to him. By the sixth week, walking was a chore, his motor systems shot to hell. He frequently smacked his own forehead on walls or tripped over heaps of garbage, vision blinking and blacking out, shutting half the world off. Noises roared in his ears, and some days he didn't even move, resigned to sitting in the muck rather than risk destroying himself by wandering in front of a car or a careless human again.

In the middle of Texas it rarely rained. That was his saving grace, that he could break down and forget why he wandered the streets or what he did to get himself thrown out, as long as he didn't get stuck in some body of water and short circuit to death. The first rain in two months brought him out of a faulty shut down behind a pizzeria, the tiny awning shielding all but his feet, which shook at the contact and snapped closer to his body. In minutes the downpour spattered across him and soaked through his body, minor shielding he had be damned, and Gavin forced himself to get up and move and hide.

Thankfully Texans weren't tolerant of terrible weather, and when he got on the sidewalk he saw no people except a few errant bodies running with coats and briefcases and bags held over their heads to protect them, none of them giving the torn apart robot a second glance in their rush to find shelter. Cars crowded the roads in their rush to get home. Gavin ducked under plastic shop tents and covered his face, doing his best to keep his eyes clear of water and let his half functional sight find the next best place to crawl into for the night. He couldn't run; every few steps his left leg gave out and forced him to crouch, breathing hard to get air in his system and cool the motors in his now broken knee. It took a half hour to get down one block.

In the darkness and the chill he almost missed it, the barely lit neon that pierced the rain. Gavin stopped again to rest his broken leg and happened to catch it as he searched the street for some place he could take as his own. The sign was a fluorescent pink, dulled by the weather and blinking like a disco ball. He had English programming and he could read at a high school level, but some of the wires in the side of his neck had frayed and it took longer than it should have to make out the words _electronic_ and _repairs_ through the blinking light. Gavin had been to a repair shop only once in his life, and it spurred his owner into shoving him out the door. His circuits hummed a hundred times faster at the sight of the words, the implication of what could happen to him if someone found him this broken and beaten.

But it was raining. And his leg hurt.

The humans were all going home and all the lights inside the shop were off, a sure signal that no one was there, that its employees had left as quickly as every other person running down the street or stuck in traffic. Gavin heaved a giant breath, biting his teeth through the shock of simulated pain as he stood again. The designers had put in a nervous system to make him more lifelike, a personal touch for the rich who wouldn't let their robot get hurt anyway. He didn't see what purpose it served now, stopping him dead in the street with a useless leg.

Something like a pop sounded from his knee and he cried out against it, almost falling on the pavement again. Gavin caught himself on his hand like he learned to do in crowded streets and spared the torn skin another glance. His hands were the worst, metal framing visible under broken plastic and his fingers barely responding when he asked them to move. Another week or two out here and he wouldn't be able to bend the joints at all.

The shop sat across the street, but the next crosswalk was thirty feet away on the corner and Gavin couldn't make it that far. He stood again, holding his knee with both hands until he felt himself straighten, and signaled as best he could to the cars sitting idly in the road. They poured gas and electric hums, smell and sound working better for Gavin than sight at this point, and he ignored the shouts from irritated drivers as he stumbled through traffic. A few honked their horns, assured by the metal and wires poking out that it was more than okay to yell at him, a non human, for blocking their cars. Gavin waved to some of them like his owner taught him, a promise that he was moving and thank you for being understanding and he would be out of the street soon, please just wait.

The shop stood as dead as it looked from across the way, the sign blinking but otherwise dark. Concrete walls and high windows protected it like a fortress. The garage door on the right side was sealed tight, too heavy for even a healthy individual to lift, much less someone as broken as Gavin. He made his way slowly to the side wall and used it to support his frame as he dragged himself to the back. His shoes scuffed the ground and water sloshed back and forth across his feet. Gavin paused long enough to peel them off, dumping the water out before chucking them entirely. Exhaustion wracked his arms and torso, and putting shoes back on was the least of his concerns.

The back of the building had the largest window, spanning across the entirety of the south wall. The door was locked, obviously, although Gavin jiggled the knob to confirm. Next to it stood a dumpster, solid, hulking metal mocking him with its ability to withstand the rain. He would have kicked it if he bothered to replace his shoes.

On top of the dumpster was a box, cardboard and fraying at the sides, filled with junk metal. Combined with the height of the dumpster, it almost reached the window. Gavin looked up, blinking past the rain droplets, and caught the barely there opening, the two inches someone had slid the window open, no doubt to air the shop out during the typically sunny Austin days. Thinking only of shelter and his broken limbs, Gavin scrambled up the side of the dumpster, fingers clinging and straining to hoist his body across the top. He landed with a heavy thud, head knocking into the box.

Getting on top of the junk pile proved to be the hardest challenge. He turned the cardboard flaps across the top to cover the dangerous pieces, but their sharp edges poked through most of it, and wet cardboard wasn't the best surface for standing. Still, without it, Gavin couldn't reach the window. He turned back to the alley, missing his shoes. It was his own damn fault, too dazed to think he might actually need them. Blinking fast to get his vision in order, he put first his working knee, and then the broken one, atop the box, climbing up as far as he dared before he paused. The rain kept on, slinging hair over his eyes. He brushed it back quickly and put his foot against the box, searching tentatively for leverage. Once found, he put both hands on the wall and shifted his weight on his good leg. It took some fumbling and a muttered curse, but Gavin found his balance, both feet braced at the edges of the junk pile, cardboard barely protecting his socked feet. He breathed hard and swallowed the chill of the night air, releasing it in a long shiver before he looked up. A foot from his head was the window, open enough for one hand to grab hold. Gavin screwed his face tight, determined, and reached up.

It wouldn't get him inside, the tiny gap. But it was enough to hold him steady against the concrete while his other hand grabbed the edge of the window and shoved for all his busted body was worth. It didn't budge at first, and he readjusted his stance. On the second try, it gave a couple inches. Huffing out a relieved laugh, Gavin did it again, managing to pry the window far enough for his torso to slip through. As it was, it might be tight. But inside promised warmth and, if he were lucky, the proper tools to get him working again. Gavin slipped his other hand to the window's ledge, bracing once more on the box, and gave a little jump to boost up.

He slipped. Only a little, his bad knee giving when he tried to push up. Gavin yelped and fell back, the box nearly knocked off. Holding fast to the ledge, he sucked in panicked breaths, motors whirring and threatening to overheat, fingers aching with their burden. One more try.

This time he got up, releasing the ledge with one hand to hook his elbow over it, fast and enough of a support that he didn't fall again. Chest pressed to the ledge, the frame of the window digging in his ribs, he pushed off the wall with his feet and pulled forward with his arms. If he bothered with his night vision, he might have more care for where he was falling, but at this point anything was better than the rain and the cold. Gavin slipped over the edge and fell. Something two feet below the window caught him, a shelf, only wide enough to slow his fall and not enough to stop him crashing to the floor.

Stunned at being caught at all, Gavin forgot entirely to scream out his artificial pain, laying on his back in the darkness. He blinked once, twice, adjusting as best he could and assuring himself it wasn't his vision that stopped him from seeing what the room looked like. The shop had been dark from the outside, too, after all. Sitting up, Gavin whirled his head back and forth. A sliver of light slipped in from what seemed to be a door at the far end of the tiny room. It was filled with more boxes and several shelves, one of which sat beneath the window and was what stopped Gavin from smacking his head straight on concrete. For a half second he wondered if that wasn't the better option.

Gavin struggled to turn on his night vision, unused when the rest of his sight started to go. There was a hum from inside his head and perhaps the sound of a spark going off, but it worked, and soon he could see almost everything in the room in a glowing green light. Tools lined the wall in specific configurations, with pencil outlines beneath the nails they hung on. The boxes sitting around him were filled with more metal and parts, better organized than the box on the dumpster. The pieces were lined in neat rows, except for the top layers, where they were tossed in to be sorted out later. One box in particular caught Gavin's eyes. An arm. A closer inspection revealed wires and metal casing, the arm lacking the skin Gavin had. His eyes lit up as much as they could in the darkness.

It must be the supply room. It explained why the window would be opened. The humans couldn't have their extra parts boiling in the room on the hot days, left alone for hours while the employees of the shop bustled around the other rooms. Gavin reached out and grabbed the arm, touching it softly, and pressing his other hand against his own arm. The parts weren't the same, the spare arm much thicker than Gavin's body. A manual labor robot, or a personal work designed to have a bigger frame. Gavin tossed it back and let out a tired sigh through his nostrils. One minute inside and already he'd found the patience to be annoyed at what amounted to a minor blessing, getting into a repair shop, a shop that operated on robots, no less, only to be bothered that the parts they had didn't match him exactly.

If he were lucky, though, they might have better parts in the other boxes. Piled high around him in towers ready to fall at the slightest push, some of them turned over already and others teetering on the edge of balance, he could only imagine what they held. Gavin blinked a few more times, turned over on his knees, and grabbed the nearest open box. It overflowed with pieces he couldn't recognize, plates and circles, wheels and screws, haphazardly gathered into piles that separated them by shape and weight. Gavin reached in and snatched a long cylindrical piece, turning it over carefully in his hands and feeling the soft curve of the metal. Time to figure out if he could use it.

 

* * *

 

A loud bang and several crashes alerted Ryan to a disturbance in the back room.

Hunched over a desk, coat pulled tight around him to keep out the chill as the rain battered on the windows outside, he'd been in the middle of fixing the wheel base for the motorized scooter he had propped against his work table. The woman who brought it in claimed it was an emergency, that she needed the scooter for her next trip outside the city, and told Ryan and his crew she would pay double to have it fixed as quickly as possible. Unfortunately for him, the other men claimed sick or longing for their families when the first signs of the rain showed, clouds hanging like a mask over the sun in the late afternoon. Without a family and too ethical to feign an excuse, Ryan agreed to stay late and fix the scooter before the woman came back for it in the morning. The only major problem was with the wheel, which stuck fast when the scooter moved more than a few feet and sent its owner into an angry sputter when Ryan tested it in the garage. He agreed to help only if he got to take Friday afternoon off, and the other three men happily agreed, grabbing their keys and running out the door before the woman could so much as thank him for taking on the job.

Bent over his table, working by lamp light in the dark room, he jumped at the sound of something crashing to the floor. He turned fast, one eyebrow raised toward the door of the storage room at the back. With a scoff, he shrugged it off; tools and boxes were always falling off the shelves at the slightest vibrations. In the morning he could speak to someone about finally organizing the damn place. It would cut their work time in half if they didn't have to rummage through four or five boxes to find the parts they needed.

No other noises came from storage, and Ryan hunched over again, glasses slipping down his nose as he tinkered with the axis he'd removed from the wheels. The metal kept catching when he turned it, clinking loudly and stopping all movement. He sighed and tapped his forehead with his finger, pressing hard against the bone. In the back of his mind, a light pounding started, a rush of blood as his body begged him to go home and go to sleep.

He almost did it, gathered his bag and left the scooter for the morning for everyone else to scramble over. It would lose him his afternoon off, though, and probably his credibility for any other last minute projects. And really, the scooter wouldn't be hard to fix. He was just tired, body sagging as the sound of the rain increased with every second. Midway through the silent debate with himself, his thoughts were cut short by another loud bang, and a distinct shout of, “ _Fuck_ ,” from the storage room.

Ryan froze, hands halfway through another cycle around his temple in their pathetic attempt to rub the growing headache away. Silence stretched in the empty room, the rain covering any minor noises with the repetitive thrumming on the window glass. He listened hard.

Nothing new came, but the damage was done. He definitely heard someone shout. The garage door had been closed since five thirty, and he locked the back door. Unless one of the guys forgot something and came back for it, which Ryan doubted would be worth anyone's time in this weather, he was completely alone. And that shout didn't sound like anyone he knew.

“Well,” Ryan said, getting up from the rickety stool he'd been sitting on and kicking it to the side, “there's never a better time to get murdered by a serial killer than on a stormy night, alone in a repair shop.” He pushed his glasses up his nose and glanced about the room, seeing nothing out of place in the low light of the lamp. The main room of the shop was made of open space, with a couple work benches and tables pushed against the wall, but otherwise uncluttered. The messes went to the storage room, everyone dumping spare parts and tools they didn't use back there to be cleaned up later, although later never came. Now someone was back there with the mess, probably hiding in the piles of junk, ready to leap and stab him the moment he walked in. Heart pounding, Ryan swallowed the lump in his throat and walked across the room.

Closer to the door and away from the windows and the noisy rain, Ryan could hear the clambering in the room. Scrapes and bumps and the occasional muttering, a sure sign someone had come in to steal whatever things of value they could find and silence whoever saw them. He put a hand up near the door knob, hesitating. In a one on one, Ryan could probably take whoever it was. He worked out on the weekends and liked to bowl, far from being a wimp with his wide shoulders and strong legs. But if the perpetrator had any kind of weapon, he was doomed.

A quick turn around and a moment later, Ryan had a wrench in his hands, heavy and stable with the promise of pain for anyone who came running at him. He clenched his fingers tight around the chilled steel, his other hand on the door knob. Through the thin wood of the door he could hear what sounded like a single voice. It was one good sign, at least, to know he wouldn't have to beat off too many robbers. Taking a deep breath, Ryan moved a half step back and opened the door, peering around the edge.

In the moments it took to adjust to the darkness of the storage closet, he relied solely on his hearing, wrench held against his chest like a shield. The voice was clearer now, a distinct accent heard through the quiet, irritated syllables. With the minimal light, he could make out the shifting of a body, sitting on the floor and tucked over.

“Dammit,” the person on the floor cursed, kicking their leg out, and Ryan heard the accent better this time, clearly a British curl bending intensely around the words as he spat out his frustration. Ryan paused, one eyebrow quirking as he watched the man from his cover behind the door. Carefully, wary of any noise he could make, he nudged the door open with his toe, letting a sliver more of light in the room. When his eyes adjusted again, he gasped quietly, nearly dropping the wrench on his own foot.

The man curled over himself on the floor had a tear in his arm, and pulled wires from his limb as he cursed and tried to tame the tangled mess pouring out from his body. At his feet were wire cutters and pliers, both tools nearly kicked away as the man-- the robot-- thrashed and grit his teeth through what was obviously pain, yanking another wire so hard it almost snapped the plastic off. If not for the metal and wires, he would have looked like any other human, with realistic skin and a tuft of hair poofing from his head, and a soft face that would be likeable if it weren't contorted in pain. Ryan recalled in that short moment that personal models tended to have nerves implanted, to make them act as human as they looked, but it came with pain as well as touch sensation and pleasure. So the robot was an expensive one, at least, and what he was doing in this tiny shop by himself, Ryan had no idea.

“Fuck,” the robot said under his breath, this time not angry but frustrated as he took the next wire he could get his fingers around and tried to connect it, one handed, to another wire lying on its side. His brows knit together and his tongue poked from his lips, muscles tense as he grasped desperately to both wires, doing his best to connect them with his forefinger and thumb. As concentrated as he was on the pathetic effort to restore a connection, the robot didn't blink as Ryan opened the door wider, eventually freeing the doorway for him to lean on one side with his hip, an arm propped above his head and the other swinging the heavy wrench as he watched the robot struggle.

The light, however, did seem to register. Another few seconds of flailing, and the robot stopped, eyes blinking rapidly. He dropped the wires hanging from his arms and put both hands against his temples, pushing hard and frowning. Ryan waited, fear trickling out of his system and replaced with curiosity and mild concern for the robot who didn't look at him, but held his head in his hands and kept blinking.

He stopped blinking, and looked up. His eyes, unfocused and searching, finally found Ryan, leaning on the door without a care in the world, assured that it wasn't a burglar but rather a helpless robot that had found his way inside. A quick glance at the window and the empty shelf below it, the contents of which were spilled on the floor below, let Ryan know exactly how he'd done it. He _told_ Brandon they needed cameras out back, or at the very least some extra alarms. Granted, it was harder to make the case for added security with a robot discovery rather than robbery, but if a robot could make his way in, couldn't a human do it even better?

Ryan turned his attention back to the robot, who had scuttled away until his back bumped against the nearest box. He narrowed his eyes at him, though the action must have disturbed something in him because they went wide and he was blinking again. “H-how long have you been here?” he asked, despite his distress. His legs coiled against himself and his fingers went stiff, ready to springboard his body off the floor. Ryan scoffed, a little hurt at the thought he would endanger a robot, or that he would even feel the need to. Dangerous robber with a gun? Bring out the wrench and hope for the best. A helpless robot? Ryan could probably take him down with one hand.

He swung said wrench again, flipping it idly a couple times, until it nearly slipped from his fingers and he had to scramble to catch it, losing the relaxed image with panicked hands. “Well,” he said, when he got a hold of the tool and tightened his fist around it, “it was long enough to know that you know nothing about robot mechanics.” He raised his free hand to point at the robot's arm. “Those two wires are different colors for a reason. They don't connect.”

The robot's shoulders came up to his ears, head ducking down to hide his face. Ryan stared at him for a minute, eyes roaming from his face, scratched to hell and caked in mud, hair splayed wildly around it and falling in his eyes, down his battered chest to his torn legs, skin broken to expose more wires, and he even thought he saw a spark when the robot drew his legs close again. The poor thing was beat to death and looked ready for the trash heap. That he worked well enough to break in and try to repair his injuries should be a miracle in and of itself.

And damn, if that didn't tug at his heartstrings.

Ryan smiled, and let out a quiet, sympathetic laugh. “Do you need help?” he asked, pushing off the doorway to step closer. The robot pushed back again, the box behind him rattling with the movement. He brought one leg up, foot resting with his ankle on the floor to show the underside to Ryan, ready to shove him back. Catching the signals, Ryan stopped and knelt down a few feet away.

When Ryan halted, the robot let out a tiny breath and turned away. Ah, he could breath as well. Someone went to a lot of trouble to make him act human.

The robot's shoulders sagged, with broken gears or a weight Ryan couldn't see. The leg he didn't hold on the defensive bent inwards, and he put a hand on his ankle. “No,” he said, with that pretty accent, and shook his head. “I don't have any money. I'm sorry, I'll leave.”

Ryan drew his brows together, shifting to his knees and dropping the wrench he'd been holding. Each movement made the robot flinch, and he was slow as he shuffled closer and reached a hand out, trying to touch the exposed casing on the robot's arm. The robot scrambled again, swatting Ryan away with his other hand. Undeterred, Ryan kept moving close and put a hand on the cut, quietly shushing the robot as he did so. “Hey, hey, hey,” he urged, voice quiet, “you're okay, it's okay.”

“I'm not a damn _rabbit_!” The robot smacked his hand, and took the hesitation from Ryan as a chance to push himself up and back into the wall, arms tight against his body. Another slew of spare parts toppled to the floor in front of his feet like a barrier between them.

Ryan shook out his hand until the sting went away, and stood to match the robot's height. Though he looked straight at him, the robot wouldn't meet Ryan' eyes, instead staring at the floor. Ryan rubbed his hand and considered his options. He was taller by several inches and, if need be, could probably pick the robot up and drag him out. Skittish, jumping every second, full of mistrust and torn to bits, it was no wonder the robot had been wandering by himself and somehow found his way in here, although part of him had to ask where the hell his owner went. If he'd come with the goal of fixing himself, sitting on the storage room floor and pulling his own wires out, he probably knew this was a repair shop, which meant he could probably read. An intelligent model, built slim and young looking, further confirming his suspicions that he was a personal model. Ryan doubted anyone would program him to act as sour as he was, hiding from him in the corner. Something must have happened to him that processed as a mistrust of humans.

He leveled his gaze with the robot again. “You don't want help.”

It had been such a long moment of silence, that he jumped yet again when Ryan spoke. The robot shook his head quickly, tucking tighter against the wall. The objects on the shelf behind him rattled when his back bumped on the wood. “Because you haven't got money?” Ryan asked, eying his injuries again. It would take hours to fix everything. The robot was blinking rapidly again and Ryan would hedge a guess that something happened to his visual components. The breaks in his skin and casing would need to be fixed and replaced so he didn't appear to have been broken, possibly with custom made parts. And the mistrust, of course, which wouldn't be so easily changed without taking the poor robot's brain apart, a thought that didn't appeal to him.

All in all, a very long term project.

“Please,” the robot said, so quiet Ryan almost missed it. He put his hands together, wringing them around each other a couple times, until he winced and had to stop, dropping his hands back down. “Please,” he repeated, “don't tell anyone I was here. I'll leave, I promise.”

Skittish and _afraid_ , apparently. Ryan sucked in a breath at the sound of his plea, and the way the robot stepped from foot to foot in place. He wouldn't last another week outside.

With nowhere else to go, squished against the shelf, the robot couldn't run, and Ryan didn't worry about it as he bent down again and started cleaning up. He grabbed the tools the robot took from the wall and replaced them where the pencil outlines underneath half hammered nails dictated their places. He kicked some of the stuff out of the way, putting back the ones he could see had fallen from specific boxes, slowly making a path in the crowded room. The robot pushed against the shelf again, hands splayed wide. Ryan picked a few more metal scraps up and chucked them in a box before quickly, quietly, stepping close. As predicted, the robot tried to dodge and run around, but Ryan caught him by the shoulder. “Hey,” he said again, ignoring the way the robot shivered at his touch. “I can help,” he said, louder, to catch his attention. It worked; the robot stopped and looked up at him. “No charge,” Ryan continued. “If you promise to clean up the rest of the mess you made getting in here, I'll take a look at you and fix anything I can.” He gestured behind him to the remaining clutter. “It's a pain in the ass cleaning this place. I'd rather you do that than pay me anything.”

The robot glanced between the mess of the room and Ryan, eyes wide and no longer blinking. This close, he could see the cameras embedded within them, whirring softly as he stared. A beat of silence passed. With a heavy swallow in his throat that Ryan could see, the robot nodded. His shoulder drooped in his grip, body losing its tension. Ryan smiled.

“Great,” he said, moving back and releasing him. “Follow me, I've got a work station already set up.” He turned, stepping carefully across the floor and picking the wrench up on his way out to toss on a nearby shelf. He held the door open and looked back, lips pursed at the sight of the robot still standing at the back wall. “Come on,” he said, and tilted his head toward the main room. “We're not getting anything done with you standing there.”

The robot wouldn't move. He tried to twiddle his hands again, winced, pattered back and forth on his feet, stood still, looked at him again. Ryan waited, tapping his fingers on the door. The rain kept on outside, the rhythm a comfort as he stared at the frozen robot. He let another few minutes go by, before muttering, “God damn it.” Ryan let the door fall shut and stalked across the room. The robot flinched and drew back, but couldn't escape the arm put around his waist. With a pained grunt, and a reminder to himself to go to pick up an extra hour at the gym, Ryan lifted him, holding the robot's weight on his chest and treading carefully back out of the room. The robot squawked and wriggled in his grip, kicking his feet like a child on their way to bed. Ryan plopped him on the floor when they left storage, and put his hands on his knees, breathing hard. “Forgot how heavy you guys are,” he said, inhaling fast.

“You didn't have to do that!” the robot said, brushing Ryan's touch off every inch of his body. “I can walk.”

“But you didn't.” Ryan shook his head and swiped his hair from his face, eying the robot again. The main room didn't have much better light than storage, with only the lamp Ryan had been using for the scooter parts, but it was still an improvement. In here, he could see the dusty brown of the robot's hair, and how green his eyes were. He was even thinner than Ryan first thought. Perhaps he was a teenage model. “What's your name?” Ryan said suddenly, surprising himself with the thought.

It caught the robot off guard as well, pausing mid swipe down his arm of the imaginary trace of Ryan. He turned back and forth, eyes searching for a place to look that wasn't the man standing before him. “Gavin,” he said, quiet once more. He resumed brushing himself off, less enthusiastically than before, and stepped a couple feet away. “It's Gavin.”

“Ryan,” he said, putting a hand out. “It's nice to meet you.”

Gavin eyed the hand like he might a venomous snake. Ryan gave up and walked across the room to the table he'd been working on. He pushed the scooter parts to the side, nudging the scooter itself from where it leaned against the table legs to sit a few feet back, and turned to face Gavin. He pat the tabletop. “All right, then, up you go. Let's have a look at you.”

As it seemed to be with anything that brought him physically closer to Ryan, Gavin moved slowly, walking step after careful step until he reached the table. There was a limp in the way he walked, his left knee giving out a couple times. Ryan eyed the offending part suspiciously, and reached out to help Gavin up. The robot refused him and boosted himself, knocking bottles of glue and boxes of screws as he turned himself over to sit properly. Ryan let out a tiny puff of air and grabbed what had fallen, setting them aside as neatly as he had the patience for.

“Good,” he said, hands going to his hips as he looked Gavin over once more. “Don't worry, we'll have you fixed up in no time.” He opened the nearest drawer and rummaged around for what he could use, glancing at Gavin, who still refused to look at him and watched the windows instead. The rain kept steadily on the glass, providing background noise to Ryan's work as he pulled out a measuring tape and a magnifying glass. “Trust me,” he whispered, moving in close to take Gavin's hand. The robot tried to draw back again, but Ryan's grip was firm and gentle, peering close to take stock of the broken skin all around the edges of his palms.

Beside them, the scooter sat, neglected and still broken.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote this for a portfolio piece for school, and I did actually change the character names for that purpose, so if you spot any places where the names are wrong, let me know!
> 
> I won't have much time to work on this between finals and my other fanfics, but please say something if you liked it! I definitely want to continue it over the summer.
> 
> EDIT: I am working on chapter two now, and have finished the outline for the story, so it should start updating regularly.


	2. and the sun went dark

Despite his best efforts, getting the robot to speak to him proved more work than it was worth at the moment. The tenth time Ryan tried to goad him into saying more than the bare minimum, he got yet another wary look before Gavin turned away from him, fingers playing with the wood on the desk or the cloth of his torn pants, tangling through the broken threads. Ryan let out tiny huffs of breath, barely heard over the still-pounding rain, and stood back to assess the poor, broken thing in front of him. He had spent the last couple of hours fixing him, stopping somewhere in the middle to glance forlornly at the near forgotten scooter in the corner. He could afford to stay a little longer, and it was only midnight by this point, so even with a couple more hours, he would earn his afternoon off and be able to catch up on his sleep. It was worth it, in his mind, for this robot who couldn't seem to stop shaking, glancing at him every few moments, as if Ryan would suddenly take back his promise and throw him out.

Considering how beat up he was, he couldn't exactly blame him. His eyes swept over the thin form, noting all the places he'd managed to repair thus far. The external damage consisted mostly of skin scraped off by whatever Gavin had done to himself out there, fixed easily enough with a plastic mold that nearly matched his skin tone. Careful grafting let Ryan fix him enough that he almost didn't look broken. His hands were the most obvious, multiple patches of the mold sticking out among the original skin, the metal frames beneath having been forced back together from minor tears and bends to hold the shape and keep Gavin's internal parts safe. At the start of it he'd been caked in mud and grime, and it took the better part of fifteen minutes for Ryan to scrape the top layer off with an old rag. Now, even with the skin replacement, and the minor bit of cleaning, he was still filthy, and it made Gavin look haggard despite the repairs.

At least Ryan had managed to reconnect most of the wires, restoring Gavin's sight and almost all of the motor functions. He'd let out a startled yelp at the return of normal vision, the rapid blinking he'd been doing the past hour suddenly stopping. Ryan laughed at the reaction, pleased with himself, but lost it in the wake of Gavin's reaction as the robot ducked his head to hide from him. He did that quite a lot, especially when Ryan touched his arms and his head, turning away so he didn't have to meet his eyes. He quickly deduced that it was from the hair in the skin; like cat whiskers, they could register touch and better help Gavin sense the world around him. It wasn't something Ryan saw often, usually reserved for the higher quality robots that didn't pass by their tiny shop. With Gavin resisting close contact so strongly, fixing him proved a problem, but Ryan worked through the little tremors and wriggling.

He had trouble fixing the internal problems, though. Aside from the wires that he could reach before putting the plastic mold over the tears in his skin, everything inside Gavin was hard to reach without taking him apart. Ryan briefly opened the slot in Gavin's lower back that gave operators access to his hardware, surprised and annoyed to find too much water and several pieces that were completely unusable. Using a towel to dry him out as carefully as he could, wiping the metal and plastic surfaces while avoiding wires that could electrocute him, he made note of the parts that needed replacing. On the table lay a small list, written in his chicken scratch, with more parts than he had hoped he would need. When he asked Gavin to stand and show him how he moved, the way his knee jerked and went stiff in turns had Ryan scribbling something about joint motors. He had no idea what model Gavin was, but he wagered it was either personal or academic, because he didn't look strong enough to be a labor model, even if he had been in perfect order. And he was British, so Ryan could tell the manufacturer as much and see what they could come up with, when their line was available to call in the morning.

He sighed and ran a hand through his hair, looking Gavin over once more. “All right,” he said finally, shifting his weight from one foot to another. “This is the best I can do for now, and we'll order you the pieces I can't fix on my own. How does that sound? Do you feel okay for now?”

Gavin glanced at him, lips pursed but eyes searching him curiously. He looked down at his own hands, turning them and flexing the fingers, no doubt testing the new plastic holding him together. It was strong, and would hold well until Ryan could order more of the industrial kind they normally used. He was fairly sure Brandon took the last of it, and they could always use more around the shop. He paused, biting his lip, and reached across the table to grab a small roll of soft, white fabric. “Here.” Ryan edged closer to Gavin, careful not to move too fast and startle him, and took his hand. Gavin jerked back all the same, pulling his hand away. Ryan held firm, gripping the hand in one of his as he bit the edge of the fabric roll and pulled. Tearing it off with his teeth, in a way that made them ache, he put the strip of fabric wrap over Gavin's palm and started wrapping. “This will keep the elements away from it,” he said, his voice quiet. “With all the rain we've been getting tonight, you can't play it too safe.”

Saying nothing, but complying with Ryan's ministrations, Gavin turned to look at the wall, as he had many times tonight. He seemed afraid, somehow, to look Ryan in the eyes, not having met them since Ryan asked his name. He almost had, when asked if he was indeed male like his outer appearance implied. Gavin's head had whipped up in shock as Ryan put away the magnifying glass he'd used on his hands before taking out the plastic mold. Ryan guessed people asked his gender as little as they asked his name, but damned if he wasn't going to give Gavin some respect. After all the abuse he'd seemed to have suffered, from the way he avoided physical contact like the plague, he could use it.

Gavin refused to stop staring at the floor while Ryan checked over his handiwork. Once his assessment was complete, he turned away, grabbing his list and his laptop. He settled on a chair a few feet away and glanced back every few moments, taking in Gavin's appearance beyond the damage. With wrapping covering the new plastic, the robot hardly looked like more than an injured human. He was lean, which would worry Ryan more if he didn't know he'd been built that way, with long limbs and wispy golden hair that flailed about with every jerk of his head. His skin glinted oddly under the harsh work lights that Ryan had turned on when the lamp proved to be too dim to work on Gavin with, the texture looking like a mix of plastic and silk. It was enough to tell him that the skin wasn't real, but he'd noticed it was softer than most robots, and Gavin responded more strongly to touch than the other androids he had encountered, even when Ryan wasn't brushing the sensory hairs.

Humming to himself as he booted up his computer, he wondered idly why that might be.

The manufacturer that Gryphon Repairs used was reliable-- nothing but the best they could afford for their owner, and if they couldn't afford it, she _made_ something better-- and Ryan didn't doubt he could get what Gavin needed. The order would take time to come in, and he figured it best to ask them to ship the parts separately as they got them to facilitate faster repair. In the morning he would call their customer service line for advice, but right now, there was a final detail Ryan needed to know if he was going to guess what Gavin needed. “Hey, Gavin, what model of robot are you?”

Gavin's head snapped up, limbs jerking awkwardly and hitting the cupboards beneath the counter as he leaned back. “Model?”

“Yeah, what type? Academic? Personal?” His lips twitched up. “I highly doubt you're used for hard labor, but I could be wrong.”

Gavin tensed, making some small noise that sounded like a growl. Ryan looked up, one brow quirking up as he caught him staring at the floor again, scuffing the cabinets with his socked feet. “Gavin?” he asked again.

“If you're so bloody smart that you can fix me just like that, then why don't you figure it out for yourself!”

Ryan leaned back in his chair, blinking slowly. _That_ wasn't warranted in the least, and he looked Gavin up and down, as if he could spot the source of his irritation. “I'm only asking a question.”

“It's none of your business.”

A moment passed where Ryan waited for elaboration and Gavin refused to give it. After all the displays thus far, Ryan could be reasonably sure Gavin wasn't giving up his front, and he gave a little harumph of frustration before turning back to his computer. He could cut the robot a little slack based on his bad condition, but yelling at him wasn't going to help either of them. His nostrils flared, and he did his best to soothe his ruffled feathers as he reviewed the contents of his order.

What worried him the most was the joint motor; it would ship the slowest, and until he got the part and used the small panel on the inside of Gavin's calves to fix it, the robot would be walking with a limp. Going by the way Gavin squirmed and made soft noises of complaint as Ryan worked, he likely had some sort of receptor to register the broken parts and thus alert his owner of the problem. The equivalent of human pain, in a sense.

Ryan's lips turned down as he placed the order, and he glanced at Gavin again. He hesitated before putting the order on the company card, and figured he could pay it back later if his boss didn't like it. It wasn't as though he could afford such a big payment, and if they tracked down Gavin's owner, the shop could charge them instead. Double checking the order number and that he had a copy saved to his hard drive, Ryan closed the computer and stood. He gave a wistful sigh at the scooter. Was the afternoon off _really_ worth it?

Yes, he decided almost immediately, and passed Gavin to grab it. He jolted at the close proximity and scrambled off the table, practically running with his faulty knee to the other side of the shop. Ryan stopped, pursing his lips. “I'm not going to do anything else,” he offered in a quiet voice. “You're as fixed as I can get you right now.”

Gavin didn't seem to take much comfort in that, standing as far as he could while still keeping an eye on him. Ryan sighed and grabbed the scooter by the handles, grunting at the weight as he hefted it up. It crashed on the table, just as thunder rolled outside, and the combination startled Gavin, who yelped again. Ryan turned with a raised brow to find him shrinking against the far wall. He must have been well and truly frightened by something to react even to loud noises. It made Ryan think of the niece he had who used to be scared of the dark and would shriek when someone turned the lights off in a room when she didn't expect it. Wondering idly what had Gavin so terrified of everything, he looked at the scooter again, along with the parts he'd removed earlier, and set to work.

Aside from the rain and his tinkering, the shop was silent. Gavin stayed against the wall, looking any way but Ryan's when he bothered to check on him. He didn't jump at the thunder again, probably shocked by the suddenness rather than the volume of the noise. Ryan played with the scooter's wheels and poked at the engine a few times, letting the minutes fade into a long hour as he moved between them. The table wasn't ideal for vehicles, even a small one, and after a while he pulled the scooter back down to the floor to play with the parts separately.

Behind him, Ryan got the sensation of someone watching him, like a faint tingle on the back of his neck, but each time he checked Gavin was searching the room like a wild cat, eyes wide and never resting on one spot for long. After the third time, Ryan lips pressed together as he tried to hold back a smirk, and he turned around faster than before to catch Gavin with his eyes on him. Gavin jumped and made a little noise, ducking his head again. Ryan laughed quietly, and said, “You can watch, if you want. I promise I won't bite.”

Natural curiosity must have warred with his fear of being anywhere near him, as Gavin crept closer before taking a step back, and then crept close again. Ryan waited patiently, turning another screw as Gavin slowly, carefully, inched his way up to the counter, a good few feet between them. His hands stayed near his chest, wringing around his fingers and catching on the bandaging, and he adjusted his stance every few minutes to accommodate for the faulty knee. Ryan stared at it with narrow eyes, before going back to his work. “As soon as I finish this, I'll be going home,” he said, his tone light as he did his best not to provoke Gavin, after the question about his model type set him off. “You don't have a place to stay right now, do you?”

Gavin didn't answer for so long that Ryan chanced a glance up, and found him glaring at his own hands. “No,” he said finally. “I don't.”

“Well.” Ryan resisted the urge to bite his lip when he almost dropped the screwdriver. “You could stay here, if you wanted.” The shop was fully equipped to house a robot, even when they were shut down, which Gavin would need to be if he wanted to avoid overexerting himself. Theoretically robots could run for a few days without rest, but Ryan guessed he might have done so already at this point, based on the clicks and whirs he could still hear thrumming just under Gavin's plastic skin. A few hours more and he might overheat. “You'd be all by yourself, with no one to bother you.”

The hitched breath and the sudden stiffness he caught from the corner of his eye made Ryan turn, brow furrowing. Gavin's eyes had gone wide, and his hands, rather than wringing nervously, were suddenly frozen, clenching. His lips were parted just slightly and his temperature regulation system was running too fast, like he was hyperventilating. The whirring of his inner parts got louder, so much that Ryan could almost hear the whipping of metal grinding on metal. He dropped his supplies and went to Gavin, hands flailing between the instinct to shake him out of it and the knowledge that if he did so it would probably make things worse. “Gavin,” he said, voice slightly strained. “What's the matter, what's wrong?”

Blinking, Gavin's shoulders lowered by a degree, and his mouth snapped shut. He looked at Ryan, eyes still open and frightened, and he said, quietly, “I don't want to be by myself.”

Ryan nodded quickly, hands still held up. “Okay, okay, that's fine. You don't have to be alone, I promise. Listen, if you don't calm your body down you're going to overheat too fast and probably break something I fixed, so.” He stopped, waiting to see if Gavin understood. Whether or not robots learned how their bodies worked was usually up to the owner, and he hoped Gavin's had been smart enough to at least teach him when the very real emotions he'd been programmed to express got to be too much.

Minutes passed, and Ryan watched as Gavin returned to his default state, standing as best he could and letting air pass through his system normally. The whirring had calmed, though he could still hear it if he strained. He waited until Gavin was switching between looking at the counter and the scooter sitting beside his feet before saying anything. “I don't have anywhere else to put you,” he said slowly, watching Gavin for any reaction. “And you obviously can't be by yourself. So, what about coming home with me?” The rain pounding on the windows reminded him that getting Gavin to where he'd parked his car wouldn't be fun, but the way Gavin's eyes flicked to him made him hopeful. He'd never had a robot with him for more than the short hours in the shop it took to fix the ones clients brought in, and he couldn't say the thought of having one at home didn't fascinate him, even if this one seemed put off by close contact. “I'd be right there,” he promised quickly, when Gavin didn't say anything else, with a wave of his hand that he hoped looked comforting. “But I can leave you to yourself if you want. Win win situation, right?”

There was a long moment of more staring at the ground and shuffling on his feet, bending awkwardly on his bad knee, before Gavin opened his mouth. “I'm fixed, aren't I? Can I-- can I leave?”

Ryan had to blink and spend time processing what that meant. “Uh, no,” he said, in lieu of asking where exactly Gavin intended to go. “I mean, if your owner can pick you up . . .” He waited for any confirmation from Gavin, receiving only a slight flinch at the mention. “If not, then come home with me. Otherwise it's sitting at the shop until morning, and you said you don't want that. There are a few pieces that need replacing before I can let you go out by yourself, and those will take time to come in the mail. So.” Ryan shrugged, and turned back to the scooter to keep his wandering eyes on something more productive. “As soon as I finish this, we can go.”

Gavin made some small noise, and Ryan could swear he heard a pout in the tone, but he kept his tiny smirk to himself and grabbed a wrench to work the damn scooter into submission as quickly as possible.

 

* * *

 

Going home with a human was the last thing Gavin wanted when he dropped in through the repair shop window. He had been fixed as well as he could at this point, and debated running out as soon as he was mobile. But his knee protested every movement, pulling at parts in his leg that sent up a pain response to his AI. In any other situation, he could alert someone to the broken part and have it fixed. Apparently, though, this Ryan person didn't have the parts needed and, even worse, he wouldn't have them for a while. Watching him work on the scooter with idle curiosity, Gavin couldn't decide if he would rather be here alone.

The thought of being alone sent shivers up his spine. The other option was going home with this new bloke, and while it wasn't terrible, Gavin could only guess what he would want once they were there. Plenty of humans took robots home for scrap; it was why Gavin avoided certain parts of the city in his month and a half in the streets. Others used them for . . . services. Just because he flinched at his broken knee every other step didn't mean Gavin couldn't work, and he had no way of knowing whether Ryan would make him do chores, or worse. Gavin sucked in fresh air to cool his spinning insides, wishing for all the world he could have his water coolant system refreshed. It hadn't been looked at since he was last home, and relying on the fan that blew manual air through him all the time would only put him in a worse state after too long. No doubt Ryan noticed it already, but he hadn't told Gavin anything other than that the plastic mold he'd used wouldn't harm him.

Either way, he didn't want to know. Ignorance was bliss, as he had been told. Gavin let his arms curl around his body and pushed away from thoughts about himself, focusing on the shop instead. It helped with his worries about what the man in front of him might ask when they were in his home, if he looked around the store and tried to figure out the many tools lying around. He wouldn't mind watching the scooter repair a little longer, but the more he stared, the funnier Ryan seemed to find it, so Gavin set about wandering the room.

It wasn't as big as he thought a shop should be, about the size of the living room at his old house, with multiple tables and work spaces. A wooden counter ran all the way down one wall, along the back, and up the other to create a U shape, with plenty of space for the numerous odds and ends. Every four or five feet, there was an implied divide in the tools lined along the tables and racks on the wall where they were scattered or hung up, splitting the counter into six defined spaces. His best guess told Gavin they were saved spots for the other people who worked in the shop.

He wandered over to the far most left one, opposite to where Ryan was working, and glanced at the objects on the wall and spread over the solid wood of the counter. A watch was scattered on this one; a fancy old fashioned one that rich people liked to have to show off instead of tell the time. Gavin had seen them before, around his house. Shuddering, and doing his best to shake the memory off, he pushed some of the parts around, fiddling with what were clearly the hands of the clock before picking up the bit of glass that must have been the face. It glinted in the low light, reflecting the lightning as it flashed in the windows. Gavin jumped at the sudden brightness, the glass jostling in his grip.

“Oh, Gavin, don't touch that, you'll break it!”

Ryan's voice rang out across the room and bounced off the walls of the giant space. Gavin spun on his heel to look at him as his hands fumbled, the order crashing through his mind as his fingers slipped. He managed, barely, to catch the piece of glass without dropping it, scurrying to put it back on the table. He knew what happened when he didn't listen to orders, and was careful not to damage the face of the watch in his panic. He quickly backed away to the side door and curled his arms around his torso. Ryan turned, having watched the display with curious eyes, until understanding dawned on him. Gavin pressed hard on the door at his back as he rushed over. He _hadn't_ broken the glass, he put it down just like Ryan asked--

Two hands gripped his face, warm in a way Gavin hadn't felt in too long, and he squirmed away from it. They snapped back easily, held in that same defensive gesture Ryan used before. “Whoa, whoa,” he muttered, “calm down, I didn't mean it.”

“Stop,” Gavin begged, forcing himself to put steel in his tone. This man was not his owner, he had to remember, and even if Gavin slapped him in the face he had no technical right to get rid of him. Still, he stayed where he was against the door even as he looked Ryan in the eyes. “Don't talk to me like I'm a baby,” he said, quieter. His hands were shaking on the hard metal behind him, and he forced himself to take in air, to cool his internal systems as they spun and shifted with his panic. Damn it, he needed his water coolants fixed, the fan couldn't keep up.

Ryan made a noise, something between concern and disagreement, but nodded. “Look, I'm almost done with the scooter, okay? We'll leave soon. You can explore, just--” he cut himself off to look at the work station Gavin had been messing with. “If we break a client's stuff, we pay for it out of pocket. Just, be careful.” He turned swiftly to go back to fiddling with the scooter, and Gavin stayed where he was despite the permission to look around. Rather than let his silly curiosity get the best of him, he was going to sit, right here, and wait.

He slid to the floor, making a light thud when he collided with it that prompted Ryan to turn back. Seeing Gavin still there, but lower, the corners of his lips went down, and he put his back to Gavin again. There was an analog clock on the back wall, ticking softly, and Gavin took to watching it, if only to have something to do.

It inched forward with each minute, and he counted the ticks into the hundreds, breaking every few minutes to divide by sixty and see how many had passed. His AI could easily handle zoning out, and was in fact programmed to do so whenever his owner wasn't using him, so slipping into a trance watching the clock was simple. Gavin took to tilting his head back and forth with the time, the motion settling his body with all its breaks and gaps.

He'd counted four sets of five and three sets of eight minutes when Ryan finally straightened his back from where he was curled over the work bench, putting both hands near his tailbone to snap his spine with a loud crack. The noise alerted him, and he blinked, the cameras in his eyes focusing again. The fact that colors and shapes were discernible, after the month spent with faulty vision, jolted him out of the weird state he'd put himself in, and awareness came rushing back at once. Gavin tensed and watched Ryan carefully as the man finished putting the last pieces back on the scooter and flipped the motor. When it ran perfectly and tried to zip out of his hands, across the floor, he laughed and turned it off. He tossed the key on the counter and leaned the scooter on one of the many tables in the center of the room, glancing at Gavin. “Care to get up from the floor?”

The sarcasm wasn't appreciated, and added to the feeling that Ryan thought of Gavin as some sort of child. He grumbled as he stood and nodded once, holding his hands tight to his body and supporting most of his weight on the functioning knee.

Ryan wiped his hands on his pants and tucked some his loose hair behind his ear, glancing up at the windows. Gavin did, too, and saw the clouds above the downpour. After weeks in the dry Austin nights, damaged but safe from the weather, the rain made Gavin take a step back. “Maybe I'll stay here,” he muttered, glancing about. It wasn't so bad in here, even if he _was_ by himself. The wooden counter tops and sawdust scattered in places gave it a friendly feeling, or at least friendlier than the last repair shop he'd been in. And the back room was still there, the door open by a few degrees because Ryan, in his attempts to drag Gavin out, hadn't shut it all the way. It would be easy to slip in there and turn on his now functioning night vision, to play with the parts left by the humans who worked here until one of them came in during the morning. Nine or ten hours wasn't the longest he'd been by himself.

“Are you coming?”

Gavin snapped away from staring at the storage room, to where Ryan was slipping his coat on. “I want to be home soon,” he added, looking expectantly at him. Gavin took a step back and bounced the heel of one foot on the floor, giving his near useless leg something to do.

Glancing at the back room again, he said, louder than before, “I think I'll stay.”

Ryan was at the side door, throwing the lock up with one hand and digging his keys out with the other. He paused, and turned, with a raised eyebrow. “I thought you didn't want to be alone,” he said, gesturing to the empty room.

“It's fine,” Gavin said, stepping back again. He was at least four feet from Ryan now and inching further, into the room without humans and expectations, a place he could crash in without worrying what might happen the second Ryan got him in his house, because he knew what happened when someone took a robot like him home, regardless of how Ryan had helped. Hell, maybe _because_ of how Ryan had helped.

Staring for a long moment, like he didn't trust him, Ryan shrugged one shoulder. “Suit yourself,” he said, opening the door. The rain pounded all the louder, sound invading the room and smashing into Gavin's ears. He flinched and ducked down, hands coming up to block it. His reaction made Ryan, visible in his peripheral as Gavin turned away from the door, pause in his footsteps. He was lingering, and Gavin chanced a look to see his hand hovering over the light switch. “You'll be okay?” he asked, hesitant.

“Yeah,” Gavin managed, forcing himself to lower his hands. He could escape the roaring of the storm as soon as Ryan left and he was alone, like he'd been the last six weeks.

Ryan made a noise, but shrugged again, and flipped the switch, plunging the room in darkness. Gavin went stiff, eyes wide as he tried to adjust. His ability to see in the dark escaped him, lost in the suddenness of the all encompassing shadows, and his mind was dragging him out, away from the room and back to the last bit of darkness he'd seen. There was nothing in the shop to see and Gavin mentally filled the gaps with a large bed and a cold pillow. Long nights in the same kind of dark, with only pale window light, crept back to him. The thunder outside cracked so loud then that he let out a little whimper before wrapping his arms around his torso to hug himself.

“Gavin!” Arms were there, and hands, pulling him up. Gavin opened his eyes and realized he'd crumpled, and now Ryan was lifting him and the dark bedroom faded to the back of his mind in the wake of the light outside and the rain spattering the shop floor. Ryan was holding him tight, warm hands clasped around his shoulders. Gavin whinged and tore away, running his fingers over the contact spots. His body shivered with residual touch, the sensors in his hair follicles thrumming. He could barely see Ryan, and with a click he activated the night vision, the world going green but visible. Ryan's eyes were wide and unnatural looking as they watched him adjust. “What happened?” The tone was gentle but not reprimanding, and for that Gavin was grateful.

“I don't like the dark,” he supplied. There wasn't much point in lying when Ryan had seen him lose function. He looked away and clenched his fists, waiting for the blow, for Ryan to call him pathetic for losing himself so quickly to a little unexpected darkness, especially since he'd been lost and in the darkness for over a month and this situation really wasn't any different.

But it never came. Gavin was tense and waiting to hear Ryan yell at him for dropping like a stone to the floor, and when silence met him he looked up again. Ryan stared, long at hard, not looking Gavin in the eyes. He brought a hand up to brush Gavin's hair, and his senses lit up again. He jerked back, running his own fingers through the strands. Ryan's hand held in the air, before he put it down and said, “So, you hate being alone, and you hate the dark. I don't know what else to tell you, Gav, but if you stay here you'll have to deal with both. Why don't you just come home with me, all right?”

It was a question, but he said it like a command, and that was enough to make Gavin nod.

Ryan stepped out, hair and clothes soaking the moment the rain touched him. He motioned for Gavin to follow with a small hand wave, and ran, away from the door and across the alley way, to the sidewalk shielded by the awning of the building next door. Pausing, Ryan turned back, still green and indistinct under Gavin's night vision.

With a blink and another click, he turned it off, looking out the doorway to where Ryan was waiting for him, lit only by the streetlights and the occasional lightning strike. Gavin glanced at the sky as it poured gallons of liquid down, hard and heavy with rumbling thunder in the distance, and curled his fingers into the fabric of his pants. He only had socks and he dug his toes into the floor, thinking of the puddles and the way the rain would get into his seams if he didn't hurry. There were no cars near the building, only empty alleys and sidewalks by the road, and the rain washed easily over the concrete and asphalt. Gavin let out a little noise and stepped back from the door, shaking his head when Ryan called.

He could see how Ryan sighed and trudged back, looking like he'd fallen in a pool when he came back inside and frowned at him. “We have to go, I'm soaked through.”

“Rain,” Gavin said, eyes flicking between Ryan and the doorway. “Humans can go out in it but it's not good for robots, I'll get wet and then I'll break more, that's why I came here, because--”

Ryan raised a hand to cut him off, lips quirking up at his sputtering. One hand came up to lightly smack himself on the forehead. “Sorry, Gav, I completely forgot, that was silly of me.” His smile fell, and he narrowed his eyes. “I'm not used to handling robots. And I don't have any umbrellas here.” He glanced around the shop, searching methodically, as if protection would magically manifest itself if he tried hard enough. Gavin picked at some of his bandaging and closed his eyes. Only moments into Ryan taking him home, and already he was causing problems.

“Hm. Well, here.” Something draped over him, and Gavin looked up to see Ryan wearing only a thin sweater. His coat, heavy and made of something that felt like leather, although the texture wasn't quite right, had been placed on his shoulders.

Gavin gripped the edge of it tight in one hand, inspecting it for a moment, and looked at Ryan. “Your coat?”

“Put it over your head,” Ryan said, holding his hands up to demonstrate. “It'll keep the water off you, and then I'll dry you off a little more when we get home.” He frowned at Gavin's feet, mouth twisting unpleasantly. “I wish I could do something for your feet, but.” Shrugging, he moved toward the door, the few dry spots left on him going damp without his jacket. “Come on, Gav,” he said, reaching out to offer a hand.

Gavin ignored it, bringing the coat up to shield him and staring at Ryan until he went out in the rain by himself. Glad to be walking independently, and with something to cover him, Gavin darted out in the downpour, following as fast he could on a broken knee as Ryan rushed under the awning and then down the sidewalk, stopping every few moments to check on him. Gavin walked a bit faster when he saw Ryan looking back, keeping the coat tight over his head and arms.

His socks were ruined by the time they made it to the parking lot two blocks down, and Ryan might as well not be wearing clothes for all the good they were doing him. He unlocked the car just as Gavin walked up, running around from the driver's side to open the passenger door for him. Gavin brushed past him and pulled open the back door, wincing at the way it tugged on his newly repaired arms. He scrambled into the back seat and tossed the coat over the chair to the passenger side, quick to curl in on himself and shake away the rain that had managed to sneak under his minor protection.

Ryan stood by the passenger door for a moment, baffled, before closing it and getting in the driver's seat. He looked at Gavin in the rear view, but Gavin avoided his gaze, tucking his face against the corner between the seat and the wall. He tucked his hands in his lap, enjoying it as the car slowly warmed up, and trying to ignore the fact that they were going to a strange human's house.

They drove for much longer than he expected, and when they stopped, Gavin lifted his head to see a house much smaller than he'd ever imagined a house could be. It was one level, almost completely square, with white paint that was chipping all over. The windows were thin, some of them broken and taped over with cardboard and plastic, and the shingle roof looked ready to cave in. It was sitting on a concrete foundation, but that didn't reassure him about the solidity of the building.

When he bothered to look, he found that most of the houses around them were like that, made of wood with chipped paint and weak windows or doors, some of them swaying in the wind that had picked up during their drive here. The cars were all like Ryan's, too, small, beat up things that could at least use a paint job and at most were probably better as scrap. But Gavin could hardly judge humans for keeping cars like that, when his condition wasn't much better.

The exception to the square shape of it was the tiny porch and overhang on the side, next to the driveway where Ryan parked the car. He rushed to open the back seat, ushering Gavin out and tossing his coat back over him. They ran to the porch, stopping so Ryan could unlock the door, and stepped inside to a house much warmer than Gavin expected. His sensors kicked into overdrive at the change, and he dropped the dripping wet jacket as he drew in a long breath. His insides practically hummed after suffering in the cold.

“The saving grace of this place is that the heating's pretty good.” Ryan bent down and picked up the coat, draping it over his arm. “Make yourself comfortable and I'll get us both dry clothes, all right?”

Comfortable could mean a lot of things, but before he could ask, Ryan had disappeared into the door on the left wall, and Gavin settled for waiting in the front hall and looking around as much of the house as he could see. The entry was opened into a living room, with a single ratty couch, a small television, and a sparse bookshelf on the far wall. Beyond the living room was an open wall leading to the kitchen, lit by a pale yellow light. The single window had a view of the wall of the house next door. On the other side of the couch was a door, and next to that, the door Ryan vanished into.

The entire space felt cramped, as if it would suffocate him if air mattered to Gavin for more than temperature regulation. He glanced between the door and the kitchen, tracing his eyes over the lines of the counters and the small fridge. How it could hold any decent amount of food, he wasn't sure.

Ryan came out, shutting the door quietly and holding out a set of clothes, sporting a dry shirt and pants himself. He pushed the clothes toward Gavin, and motioned to the door beside the couch. “That's the bathroom. I'm going to make myself dinner and you can change.”

Hesitating, he took the clothes, careful not to touch Ryan in the process, and watched him hum as he walked to the kitchen and opened up the fridge. Gavin peered curiously into it as Ryan tugged out a carton of eggs, catching a glimpse of the inside. There was hardly anything in it. Before he could stop himself, he said, “Don't humans need a variety of foods for proper nutrition?” The line was practiced, told to Gavin multiple times, and he snapped his mouth shut as soon as he spoke.

Ryan looked up from where he was putting a pan on his tiny excuse for a stove. “Huh? Oh.” He glanced back at the fridge, and shrugged. “I do my best. I'm not exactly rich. Besides, eggs are easy to make.” He set the pan down and tipped a bit of oil in it, cracking an egg with one hand. “Aren't you going to change into dry clothes?” he asked, when Gavin kept watching him.

Nodding, he slipped into the bathroom, thinking of the nights he'd spent watching meals be made and how none of them consisted entirely of eggs. And only three eggs, from the looks of what Ryan intended to prepare. He shook his head, and pulled up the new clothes to look at.

A t-shirt and jeans. Simple enough, and not much different from what he wore. There were also socks and slippers. Gavin's mouth screwed up at that, but he undressed and changed nonetheless, patting the clothes down to settle on his body. He wore the slippers despite the fact his feet didn't register comfort and he only ever needed shoes to go outside, piling his wet clothes together. When he came back to the kitchen, Ryan was leaning against the counter and eating his plate of eggs, which thankfully had bits of deli meat added to them, judging by the package now sitting beside the egg carton. Ryan waved his fork when Gavin returned, and swallowed before speaking. “Just toss the old stuff into the laundry room. It's next to the bedroom.”

He complied, and stood in the living room when he finished. Ryan didn't take long to eat, eyeing Gavin carefully as he came in the living room. “I need a shower,” he said, “so you can do what you want while I'm busy. Watch TV, rest, as long as you don't damage any of my stuff.”

The reminder not to break things in the shop came back to him, and Gavin carefully kept his hands at his side while Ryan went in the bathroom, listening as the shower started. He didn't have a purpose in the kitchen, and the bedroom was a private space, so he sat on the couch. The books on the shelf looked interesting, most of them about robotics or engineering, along with things that looked like literature, but Gavin didn't read books. He listened to the shower running and the low tune seeping through the door as Ryan sung to himself, mind wandering as the minutes passed.

He was in a human's home. Worse, it was a tiny, one bedroom home, and Gavin was wearing the human's clothes. He owed his repairs to Ryan, and now shelter, and he still didn't have money to pay any of it back. No one paid robots for jobs, and Gavin didn't have an owner to speak of anymore. There wasn't much else he could do to pay Ryan outside of services. He frowned and twiddled his fingers. He'd promised himself he wouldn't get involved with humans again, in the long six weeks he spent hiding in alleys and avoiding them at all costs, and yet here he was. If only that damn shop had been closed properly. If only he saw the tiny light within from the windows, the light that would have told him someone was there, so he could wait it out instead of crashing inside and getting found.

Before he could dwell on it long, the bathroom door opened, and Ryan stepped out, toweling his hair. He had another towel over his arm, and he let the towel in his hair drop to his shoulders before bringing up the second one. “Here,” he said, and reached out. Gavin flinched away, scooting across the couch. Ryan's lips pursed, and he stood straight. “I need to clean you,” he said, tossing the towel between his hands. “You're covered in mud.”

“I can do it,” Gavin said quickly, snatching the towel. Or, he tried, but Ryan lifted it out of his reach.

“You won't reach everywhere. Look.” He tilted his head, one eyebrow raised. “You're touch sensitive. That's pretty obvious. You were shaking the whole time I worked on you. But leaving the mud on will make it worse, and without a shower or bath, you can't clean yourself properly. Let me do it, and then I'll leave you alone, I promise.”

The words were stern and left no room for argument. Gavin's hands hesitated where they were, inches from the towel Ryan refused to let him have. He dropped them in his lap, and flinched at the sight of his hands. Ryan had scrubbed him lightly in the shop, but the deeper layers were still caked on. Being outside for so long would do that. “Fine,” he said, head hung to avoid his Ryan's gaze. “Give me a sodding wash, then.”

He couldn't see Ryan's reaction, but a moment later the bathroom faucet was running, and he looked up to see the door open. Gavin got up and trudged over, fingers tracing lightly over the hairs on his arms. His sensors lit up, and he could only imagine what Ryan's rough fingers would do with a layer of soap and water.

In the bathroom, Ryan had the towel soaking in the sink, washing a bar of soap over it. When it was lathered to his satisfaction, he smiled at Gavin and pointed to the toilet seat. Gavin sat obediently, and Ryan motioned for his shirt to come off. Before he could protest, Ryan said, “I'm washing everything, Gavin. Off.”

Grumbling, he slid the new shirt off and laid it over his knees. Ryan bent beside him, moving slower than usual as he brought the cloth to Gavin's skin. He started at the shoulder, pressing gently, and rubbing in circles to work away the mud and the grime that had collected. Gavin jumped away, but Ryan's other hand pressed on his chest, only by the fingertips and just enough to keep him in place.

As much as Gavin had been avoiding coming close to Ryan the entire night, Gavin fell more easily than he wanted into the feeling of being manually cleaned. Ryan's hands were warm, even more than the water he'd doused the cloth in, and the way he worked thoroughly but carefully in a soothing rhythm calmed him. Without thinking, Gavin closed his eyes, letting his eyes rest and his body go quiet under the ministrations.

The movement from shoulder down his arm brought him back to the moment. Ryan rubbed hard against the grain of his hair, forcing Gavin to pay attention. The warmth still felt good, but any amount of pressure against his follicles spread endless information to Gavin's mind about his environment, and the texture and temperature of the cloth was suddenly ten times as obvious. He squirmed a bit, and Ryan moved his free hand from his chest to his opposite shoulder to keep him still.

It went on like that, Ryan working slowly in little circles to dislodge the filth, stopping occasionally to wipe at the spots he'd gone over with the dry half of the towel. Gavin made a noise whenever he suddenly switched between washing and drying, partly due to temperature change and partly because Ryan was rougher when he dried him off. He went down one arm, across his back and neck, down the other, and over Gavin's chest. That presented a mild problem, as Gavin had an even thicker collection of hair to help with touch sensation. He let out a yell when Ryan pressed the towel firmly on his abdomen, pulling away. Ryan hauled him back with a firm grip, but was much gentler, taking longer to remove the dirt as he watched Gavin for another reaction. By the end of it, he was struggling to keep his sensors in check. It had been so long since a human touched him like that, he wasn't sure he could get through the rest of it.

“Here.” Ryan rinsed the towel and soaped it up again, presenting it to Gavin. “You can do your legs and face by yourself. I'll be in the living room if you need me.” He paused in the doorway, watching as Gavin kicked off his slippers and socks, before slipping away. Gavin had to resist the urge to ask him to do the rest anyway, the heat of close contact like a drug to his brain. He was staying _away_ from humans, and he should be grateful Ryan left.

As the grime came off his legs and feet, though, it didn't have quite the same feeling of relief.

Dry once more and clean for the first time in too long, Gavin dressed again, tossed the towel over the side of the bathtub, and returned to the living room. He might retreat to elsewhere in the house, except it was possibly the smallest one he'd ever been in, and Ryan noticed him as soon as he left the bathroom. He had the television on and the remote in one hand, but he didn't hesitate to look Gavin over and give a nod of approval. “Good. I'm glad you're clean.” He stood and flicked the TV off, putting the remote on top and stretching his arms. “I think I'm going to go to bed.” He paused, and looked at Gavin again. “How do your hands and arms feel?” When Gavin stared blankly, he clarified, “With the new skin over it.”

“Oh, um.” Gavin flexed his hands, and played with the edges of the bandages still covering his tears. The edges were wet from where the water had dripped, but he couldn't feel the wires pulling over the metal mesh underneath shifting against itself, as it had before the repairs. “Good. Fine.”

Ryan nodded. “And, if I can ask something else, do you . . . feel pain?”

“Pain?”

“I mean, do you hurt the way a human might? You're pretty beat up.” He brought a hand up to scratch at the back of his neck. “I know some models have a similar response to damage, but you never told me what kind of robot you are.”

Gavin snorted a little, to cover the mild panic at the mention of models and types. Ryan shot him a curious look at the noise, and he ducked his head. “All right,” he said, waiting until Ryan's brow smoothed out. “It's not pain, exactly. It's a reaction to being broken.” Gavin bent down to touch his knee as he spoke, feeling the back of the joint where _something_ , Ryan hadn't told him what, wasn't hooked up right. “I can say it hurts, but it's probably not like human pain. I'm programmed like that so I can tell my-- my owner, when something isn't right.” He stuttered slightly, hating that he had to say it out loud when he didn't have any owner any longer, but Ryan nodded all the same and didn't call him on it.

“I thought as much. Well.” He blew out a breath, running one hand through his hair. “Then I guess I can take the couch, tonight at least, and you can have the bed. I can't risk you rolling off and hurting yourself again. The plastic mold is pretty new, and that knee doesn't need to get fucked up more. Okay.” Nodding to himself, Ryan crossed the room to go into his bedroom, coming out a few moments later with a couple blankets and a pillow. He tossed them on the couch, and held the open door, gesturing to it. “It's good to power down every once in a while, right? Why don't you rest, it's pretty late. I'll get you up in the morning.”

Gavin stood completely still between the couch and the bedroom door, blinking several times. “I don't need a bed. I'm a robot.”

Ryan rolled his eyes and swung the door open wider before strolling to the couch and plopping himself back on it. Instead of responding to Gavin, he drew the blankets over his body and laid across the cushions. “I'll take the bandages off when we get up. Goodnight, Gavin.” With that, he laid his head down, closed his eyes, and pretended to sleep.

His breathing was too uneven and his body too stiff to truly have fallen asleep that quickly. Gavin knew a sleeping human when he saw one. But staring at Ryan did nothing, and he wouldn't stoop to shaking him for attention. Watching for a long moment, Gavin edged toward the bedroom, waiting for Ryan to change his mind or take it back and insist on staying with him in the same bed. He only continued to pretend to sleep, though, and after a while, his breaths became longer and slower, a sign he had actually fallen asleep on that lumpy, unruly couch. With no further catch, and the faint humming of his internal parts telling Gavin that a nightly shut down was indeed a good idea, he slipped past the door and shut it quietly.

The bedroom was as tiny as the rest of the place, with a single double bed and a small table with a lamp. To his left was a dresser that came up to his waist, a small hand mirror resting on top. He picked it up and looked at himself, at how clean his face was now. He ran a hand briefly through his hair, the sensation of touch not nearly as strong coming from himself as his fingers pulled on the strands. Setting the mirror down, he glanced at the bed. Like everything else, it wasn't big or grand in any way, with a few thin blankets and a single pillow left opposite the side Ryan had taken his from. But it was enough for two, and Gavin wondered why Ryan hadn't just had them share. It would be the easier option, flimsy excuse about keeping Gavin from breaking aside. He didn't move in his sleep the way humans did, and certainly wouldn't roll off the couch if he chose to shut down there. However, Gavin couldn't keep the inherent kindness of the gesture out of his mind, and shook his head.

He would let Ryan fix him. He would pay him back _somehow_ , even without money, and then he would leave. Otherwise he'd be put back to work or sold to someone else, or Ryan might keep him for himself, since he obviously couldn't afford a robot of his own. None of those options he liked, and Gavin steeled himself as he slipped into the bed and his sense of smell caught the organic traces there, the scent of none other than Ryan surrounding him. Quickly, he set his AI's alarm system for the early morning, and pressed a finger to the switch on his lower back that would keep him in the dark for the next eight hours.

 


	3. colors of a closer nature

The couch hadn't been the worst thing in the world to sleep on. The cushions were uneven, so lumpy that he had to constantly shift to get comfortable. All the movement put him near the edge of the cushions more than once, and Ryan woke himself up when his head starting hanging off the side as he shifted in his sleep. The musty smell constantly present in the old fabric was almost overwhelming with his nose pressed in it all night, and it was so short that he had to hang his feet off the edge to stretch. But Ryan had definitely slept on worse. When he woke up, the living room light was already on, and he could hear quiet padding in the kitchen. He briefly wondered if he forgot about a visit with his mother, who always woke up before him in the mornings to make him breakfast, whistling as she worked and chiding him when he got up about how he never fed himself right.

Ryan sat up, rubbing away the sleep from him eyes. The previous day slowly trickled back into his mind, from his unusual evening to the sudden visit, and how he insisted on dragging a frightened and broken robot named Gavin into his house. He froze, and glanced over to confirm that it was indeed not his mother making noise in the kitchen, but Gavin. With the sight of him pacing through the kitchen came clarity, and Ryan tossed the blankets off to stand. Post sleep vertigo forced him to stop, as his body brought itself to full alertness, and it was enough of a commotion that Gavin stopped his pacing and looked at him.

Once his head was clear, Ryan shook it, and tried to smile as he moved around the couch to the kitchen. Gavin scurried away, standing in a far corner and dashing Ryan's hopes that he might be less terrified when light poured in the windows and brought a cheerful air to everything in his home. Ryan thought he'd proven himself no threat, fixing Gavin and giving him a place to sleep where he wouldn't risk hurting himself further, and yet he still kept his distance, a wary expression on his face.

He held up one hand in casual greeting. “Morning, Gavin. How'd you wake up before me? I thought you would have shut down last night.”

“Self set alarm,” Gavin said, tracking Ryan with his eyes as he pulled ingredients across the kitchen counter and appraised them, deciding what he wanted to eat this morning. His stomach didn't feel particularly empty, although that might have more to do with the excitement than any actual lack of hunger.

“Alarm, huh?” Ryan tilted his head as he considered that, settling on a loaf of bread and opening it to take two pieces. An alarm was standard for most robots, as well as other computer devices, and didn't help much with narrowing down exactly what kind Gavin was.

He spent last night thinking on it, as he feigned sleep and waited for Gavin to take his bed. The couch wasn't built for sleep, and he had time to think as he adjusted to the roughness of it. Just because Gavin refused to tell him anything didn't mean Ryan couldn't puzzle it out, and he had a few decent starting places.

For one, he was obviously expensive, much more so than the robots that usually came into Gryphon Repairs. His skin was softer and more responsive, more human-like in the way it drew big reactions from Gavin's sensory input, and even with the differences between them, Gavin's relatively human appearance complimented the strong make of his material. He had a body like a human, slim but strong looking, and a face that imitated youth. His hair flew all over when he moved his head, and beyond the tiny cameras embedded in his eyes, Ryan could see a green tint that imitated a human iris. He had seams in the plastic where his joints connected, and the cameras in his eyes were always moving, as they adjusted to changes in lighting and shape of environment, but he also had a realistically flawed face and long limbs that created the kind of imperfection to keep him from the uncanny valley of looking too much but not enough like a person.

His personality was well rounded, not static and dull from plain programming, nevermind that it seemed stuck on _terrified_. Ryan had reasonable doubt he was built to act that way, and whatever happened before or during the escapades that got him broken and filthy was probably the cause.

Sussing out that much from Gavin's looks had been simple before Ryan fell asleep last night, and now, at least, he had a ballpark of how much Gavin probably cost .  Getting anything more than that was the hard part. He refused to divulge anything about himself or get close to Ryan, hiding in corners and not looking him in the eye. In all likelihood, he was a custom built personal model, but not knowing the details made something itch in the back of Ryan's mind.

The silence in the room as went over his own thoughts was getting to him. “How did you sleep, then?” he asked, as he pulled out jelly from his fridge. He turned to look at Gavin, tilting his head curiously. “I mean, not sleep, obviously, but was the bed okay?”

Gavin hesitated, and nodded, eyeing Ryan's peanut butter and jelly sandwich with something like disgust. “Yeah, it was fine. I don't think I need all the room, though, especially since you're the human who needs rest.”

Ryan let out a little chuckle, spreading his condiments carefully over the slices of whole wheat bread. “I slept just fine, thank you.” A tiny lie wouldn't hurt, if it would make Gavin feel better. A small part of him wondered if there was a reason Gavin was so concerned with the things robots didn't need. He'd complained about the bed last night, too.

“Did you get enough sleep, though? Don't humans need at least eight hours? It's been five.”

He shrugged, and put away the rest of his food. Grabbing the plate with his sandwich and moving to the living room, Ryan said, “I appreciate the concern, but I've had worse. Besides, I get the afternoon off today for fixing that rush order.”

Gavin went silent behind him, and Ryan turned to see him staring at the ground, mouth open as he muttered something. Ryan didn't catch it, and didn't press Gavin to repeat, instead taking a seat and flipping the television on. Thankfully the couch didn't hurt as much to sit on as it did to sleep on, and Ryan settled in easily before taking a bite of his sandwich.

The early morning news came on, the woman on the screen addressing a riot they apparently had downtown two days ago. Ryan vaguely remembered hearing about it when it happened, but the details escaped him. It had been in the newspaper, and his boss had mentioned something, but his head was in his work at the time. He turned it up a little and watched the image of protesters in the streets, some of them pushed back by police and others talking calmly with local reporters.

After a minute, Gavin joined him, standing by the arm of the couch rather than sitting.

When it became clear that no one had been hurt in the riot, Ryan lost his interest in the news. He glanced at Gavin between bites of his sandwich, doing his best to watch without getting caught. Gavin tensed, but didn't say anything, blinking slowly as he watched the television. Ryan didn't stare for long, but when he turned away, his mind stayed on Gavin, thinking over last night and examining the details in a way he hadn't been able to before.

Gavin should have had an owner, that much was clear. Robots could be activated for testing during the manufacturing stage, but their consciousness was usually wiped and their bodies shut down after they were deemed functioning, and the only way for Gavin to be outside by himself would be if someone let him go or lost him. Robots were expensive, though, and Ryan couldn't imagine anyone who would lose one and not set out to find them immediately.

It would be easy to open up his mouth and ask who his owner was, and why he hadn't been found yet. Ryan chewed the last bite of his food and rested his chin in his now free hand, frowning. The idea of it didn't sit well with him, coiling unpleasantly in his gut. Gavin had a right to withhold that information, human or not, and if he hadn't told him yet, he probably didn't want to.

His thoughts were interrupted by movement on his left, and Ryan turned to see Gavin sliding down the arm of the couch, into the cushions. His feet came up from the floor, curling close to his body, and he rested his arms on his knees until his body was in a tight ball, eyes peeking over his knees to keep watching the TV. Ryan quirked a brow, and Gavin looked at him with fierce eyes. “What are you looking at?” he said. It might have been intimidating, were his voice not impossibly quiet.

Ryan held his hands up innocently and shrugged. “Just curious. I've never been with a robot up close, and it's neat to watch you.”

Gavin tensed, and Ryan thought that might not have been the best thing to say. He looked away quickly. As he tried and failed to focus back on the news, the questions from last night continued to bubble in his mind, and one in particular came to him so strongly that he couldn't resist asking.

Carefully, he turned, shifting his body so it was angled towards Gavin, who went stiff again and whipped his head around to look at him, eyes firmly latched somewhere near his nose. His continued refusal to meet Ryan's eyes was another curious thing, but he ignored it, and said, “I have to know something.”

Gavin shuffled his body, cramming himself further into the corner of the couch.

Ryan soldiered on, relaxing his shoulders to look less threatening. “I've had robots come by the shop, but most of them aren't in such bad condition. What exactly did you _do_ to get like that?”

There was a long pause, as Gavin buried his face between his knees and Ryan tightened his hand against his own knee. The woman on the news droned on, her voice like a buzzing filler to the empty atmosphere. Eventually, Gavin poked his head out again, eyes flashing briefly to Ryan and away. “I left home.”

And he didn't say any more, tucking his face down and wrapping his arms around his legs.

Ryan sucked in a breath, waiting for the qualifier or the explanation. Robots didn't just  _leave home._ Any of the ones left on the street were either taken in by the police to find the owner, or thrown away .  They were precious, and there were procedures for getting rid of them, rules to ensure that such valuable products weren't wasted . Gavin, however, stayed curled in on himself, with no indication of explaining himself, and Ryan sat back, taking in the information. 

With the distinct feeling that pressing for more would make things worse instead of better, Ryan sat back and kept his mouth shut. He could see Gavin relax slightly in his peripheral vision, hands falling and legs sticking out just a bit as he readjusted. The news continued on about foreign affairs and politics, and Ryan would have shut if off by now if it didn't help the silence. He glanced at the clock in the corner of the news channel's banner. Only a few more minutes before he had to get ready for work.

That left the biggest question of the morning: what was he going to do with Gavin?

He had ordered the parts he needed last night, and while Ryan did still have to call the manufacturer to double check that a British model would be compatible, the situation was pretty much handled. Gavin didn't have any reason to come with him, and it would be easy to let him lounge about the house until he got home. The owners that came into the shop with their robots always had claims about some accident or another that caused the problems, citing their tendency to leave their robots at home by themselves when not using them.

It would be boring, though. Ryan looked around his living room, and the doors that led to different parts of the house. He was under no illusions about the grandeur of the place, with its low ceilings and small spaces. Besides television and his meager book collection, there was nothing to do. And without him here, there was nothing stopping Gavin from leaving. He'd seemed a little too eager the night before, when he asked if he could leave the shop. Ryan wouldn't put it past him to try now, even with his still broken and missing parts.

That left the option of taking Gavin to work. He bit his lip, thinking of the way his coworkers might react. Just the hint of a robotic addition, temporary or not, would send them into excited rants about how they could finally study a robot up close and interact with one without worrying about the owners getting miffed. None of the repair shop's employees were rich enough to afford their own, but most of them were in the business for the same reason. They loved machines, and robots were the pinnacle. When their boss talked about getting one for the shop, no one, including Ryan himself, stopped talking about it until they were informed it simply wasn't in the budget to buy one.

With all of Gavin's reactions to Ryan, he probably didn't need to be surrounded by over zealous humans who were eager to pry him apart piece by piece to learn how he ticked.

He chanced a look at Gavin again, who was still curled up on the couch and looked about ready to nest there. The reactions last night, when he crumbled in the darkness and outright _stopped_ responding for a minute, until Ryan hauled him up and yelled at him, were enough to tell him what might happen, even if Gavin didn't run off. No matter how the others at the shop might react to a hand-me-down robot, he had a rough time picturing it going well to leave Gavin by himself, after last night.

“Hey,” Ryan said gently, drawing Gavin out of his trance. He blinked and lifted his head, finally turning from the television. Upon coming to alertness, he frowned again, and scooted against the arm of the couch. Ryan ignored the reaction. “I have to go to work soon. Do you want to come?”

Gavin pondered that for a minute, eyeing Ryan carefully. “Why?”

“Because you don't like being by yourself, and I'm worried.”

The tone seemed to catch him off guard, Gavin's frown fading as his brows lifted in surprise. Ryan waited patiently, tossing one hand over the back of the couch and tapping his fingers on the rough fabric.

Gavin lowered his head and looked between his knees. “Would I have to do anything?”

Ryan shook his head quickly. “Nah. You're still not fully functional, and besides that, you aren't built to work at our shop. Just hang around. I might need to look at you when I call our manufacturer about parts, too. I want to be sure I made good choices on the order last night, in case I have to cancel. But other than that, you'd be free to lounge.”

He seemed to brighten at that, back straightening as he relaxed. “Well,” he said slowly, as though considering it. Ryan might roll his eyes if he didn't think Gavin would get mad at him for poking fun. “All right, then. Doesn't sound so bad.”

“Good.” Ryan stood, patting Gavin lightly on the head. He jolted away from the touch.

Ryan drew back, but smiled all the same. “I'll get ready and we can go in a few minutes.”

After showering last night, he didn't have to do it this morning, and it saved on time when he brushed his teeth and hair, and pulled on new clothes. Gavin's borrowed clothes, an old shirt and jeans that Ryan almost never wore anymore, were wrinkled, but with a synthetic body he wouldn't need a new set for a while. It helped Ryan, who couldn't afford to buy anything extra. As he buttoned his shirt and stepped out into the living room, he saw Gavin up as well, rocking on his feet by the doorway. “Ready?” he asked, slipping his coat on.

“No.”

Ryan quirked a brow, and saw Gavin pointing to his feet. His shoeless feet.

Oh. Ryan clicked his tongue and cursed under his breath. Last night happened so quickly despite the long hours, he'd completely forgotten that Gavin didn't have shoes. As with everything else about him, Gavin never said what happened, but it was probably safe to say they were gone for good. “Okay,” Ryan said, blowing out a long breath. “Give me a minute.”

He dove back into his bedroom, bending down on the carpeted floor to dig through the bottom of his shallow closet for any spares. New shoes, like new clothes, were a luxury. The thrift store he liked didn't always have what he needed, and it was far enough that driving there was a commitment he didn't like to make too often. The closer department store cost too much, and thus his closet selection was limited. After rooting around in the dirty shirts and boxes shoved inside, he found a beaten up pair of sneakers. They were stuffed in the corner, and Ryan grinned victoriously as he pulled them out. The soles were coming off, and they had a few holes dotting the sides, but it would do.

“Here,” he said, when he was back in the living room, tossing the pair at Gavin, who fumbled but managed to catch them. “They're not great. I'll try to get you better ones when I can.” Gavin didn't notice the fake cheer in his promise, pulling the sneakers on his feet. With them both dressed and ready, Ryan snatched up his keys and led them outside, double checking the lock on the door before going to the car.

He waited for Gavin to get in, heart falling just a little when he ducked in the back seat again. His determination to stay as far from Rya n  as he could, even while depending on him, soured his spirit , a nd he tried his best to shake it off as he got in and started the engine. 

Leaving home was a welcome change, as it was every morning. Ryan did his best to focus on the road as he drove, without looking at the streets they passed. Ten minutes in, though, they were stuck in traffic, and he couldn't help letting his eyes wander to ward off the boredom as they sat still on the road.

The houses might be the worst. Many of them were falling apart, too broken to fix but not broken enough to tear down. Trash littered the sidewalks, and graffiti covered every available surface in profanity and gang signs. There was the occasional good bit of art that made Ryan smile, but it never took long before someone covered it with a crude drawing of genitals. In a neighborhood like this, Ryan was lucky he managed to buy something with working heat and water, but others didn't fare as well. The neighbors were quiet, not willing to talk to anyone unless they had to. Ryan met a few good people, but they were rare, and it was easier to keep his head down.

It . . . wasn't the _best_ place to be keeping a robot. Ryan checked the rear view mirror and caught Gavin peering outside. Anyone who saw him without Ryan would surely take him to sell for parts, or try to use in their own house. He wouldn't be half as scared of leaving Gavin alone if he trusted his neighbors. “You seem interested in the sights,” he said, mostly to break the silence, but the suddenness made Gavin jump and hiss when he hit his head on the ceiling. “Oh, sorry!”

Gavin rubbed the spot for a brief moment, hand falling as he looked over the corner of the driver's seat. “'S fine. I've never seen a place like this before.”

Hesitating, Ryan asked, “Where did you live before?”

Judging on his previous reactions, he didn't expect an answer, and wasn't surprised when Gavin leaned back on the chair and curled up again. He did that _a lot_.

When traffic started again, Ryan hurried to get on the main road into town, decrepit buildings replaced with trees, and then sturdier architecture and pleasant parks. Gavin peered out the window again when they came into Austin proper, fingers tracing lightly over the edges of the door as he watched the people and stores flash by.

Ryan did his best not to stare, both for their safety and to not embarrass Gavin. He hadn't been lying about never being with a robot this close, for this long. The robots in the shop were whisked away within hours. The bigger repairs were usually traded off to the other shops in town specifically designed to cater to robots. Gryphon Repairs was mostly auto and simpler devices like the watch Gavin found, little things that took up an hour or two. They advertised for robots because it got them cash, but the owners of the intricate automatons typically found someone on the more expensive end of the spectrum.

Watching Gavin was a privilege Ryan wanted to take advantage of while he could. Now in town, he drove a little slower, and checked the mirror more than he needed to. If Gavin noticed, he didn't protest, eyes never leaving the window.

He parked in the lot down the block again, tugging the plastic employee card that hung on his rear view mirror to be sure it wouldn't fall. His boss had to get permission for Ryan and his coworkers to park here, since she couldn't afford to buy the lot next to the store for their cars, and they couldn't park on the street all day without being ticketed. He got out and straightened his coat, heat building quickly beneath it. The storm from the night before had left enormous puddles on the asphalt, and the evaporating water quickly turned the hot Austin air muggy. The heat curled under his brow and had him sweating in seconds, and he unzipped his coat to get some relief.

Gavin got out soon after, shutting the door and shuffling toward the rear of the car. Ryan locked it and pocketed the keys, leading the way down the sidewalk. Gavin trailed behind, as best he could on his faulty knee. Ryan glanced back as he had the night before, but Gavin lifted his nose in the air when he did, as if it was an insult for Ryan to think he wasn't capable.

He had a sneaking suspicion Gavin did that more for himself than for Ryan.

It was ten minutes past nine when they made it to the side door that the employees used. The attached garage was open and had a motorcycle at the stand, ready to be worked, but no one was in there yet, and they had walked around the front without being spotted. Checking Gavin again to be sure he hadn't collapsed, Ryan opened the side door and stepped inside.

The noises hit him first, the hustle and bustle of people rushing around and carrying heavy metal. Like every other morning, rock music blared from the radio, and almost everybody was moving to the rhythm in some way, either with feet tapping or hips swinging, as they established their own work ethic for the day. The high ceiling and open space let the sound travel and bounce back, amplifying it as it blared through any available openings. The sounds poured out the second the door opened, the crashes and clangs of equipment sprinkled throughout the melody.

His boss stood across from the door, her back to him. Griffon Ramsey, in tattooed arms and dirty overalls, had her tools spread out on her designated station at the counter, looking over a paper that seemed to be blueprints, though it was hard to say from a distance. Her hips jutted out, and one leg was bent, toes tapping the concrete floor in time to the radio.

No doubt she'd be working on the bike set up in the garage, possibly with Lindsay to assist her.

“Ryan!”

Speaking of. He turned and smiled as the red headed woman set to be Griffon's assistant manager, if business and Lindsay's secret promotion plans panned out, hurried to him and swung an arm over his shoulder. “How are you this morning?” She grinned, and Ryan could already smell the oil on her. She had probably set up the bike for Griffon.

“Fine,” he said, shaking her off and dusting his arms. He slid his coat off and hung it on the rack by the door, glad to be rid of its oppressive insulation, before turning to look at the doorway.

Gavin was nowhere to be found. “Uh, hang on.” He held up a hand to Lindsay and stepped back out, catching sight of Gavin leaning on the wall. “Gavin?”

He looked up, freezing when their eyes met, and shook his head.

“What's wrong?” Ryan stepped over, closer than he meant to, and Gavin shuffled back again.

“There's so many people,” he said, frowning at the doorway.

At that moment, Lindsay poked her head out, saying, “What are you doing out--”

The sight of Gavin cut her off, and she stumbled out, wide eyed. Gavin yelped and retreated, tucking behind Ryan, his head resting in the dip of Ryan's spine. The sudden closeness settled strangely in Ryan's gut, to see Gavin acting so contrary to his typical behavior, but lost his concern in the wake of Lindsay's laugh.

“Oh my god!” She walked to them and craned around Ryan's shoulder to get a better look at Gavin, teeth peeking out as she grinned. “Is that a robot?”

“Um, yes.” Ryan tried to turn and look at him, to assure Gavin that Lindsay was even less than a threat than he was, but Gavin's hands were in his shirt now and when he tried to move, Gavin kept him firmly rooted in place. “I found him last night.”

Lindsay's eyes narrowed. Putting a hand on her hip, she jerked a thumb towards the door. “Is that why the back room is a mess? And I mean even more so than usual, because most of the time we don't have a broken shelf in there.”

“Oh.” Fuck, he hadn't noticed the shelf was broken. Thinking back on it, it made sense, considering how Gavin got in the room in the first place. He'd have to fix that himself, damn. Ryan shrugged in response to Lindsay and brought a hand up to scratch at the back of his neck. “Yeah, kind of. He wandered in through the fucking _window_. Speaking of which, I should talk to Brandon about getting more cameras back there.”

Lindsay eyed Gavin, still hiding, and snorted at Ryan. “He won't relent. According to him, we're too poor to want to steal from, and he's got a point. But why did this little one want inside?” She bent around Ryan's arm, and Gavin made a noise, scrabbling to duck behind Ryan's opposite side.

“I'll explain later,” Ryan said, bringing a hand up to run through Gavin's hair. The motion only got him another yelp, and Gavin finally let go, backing away a few steps. He glanced between them both, eyes as wide as they had been during his panic attack the night before. Ryan resisted saying something to calm him down, and asked Lindsay, “Is Griffon available?”

“As much as she ever is,” Lindsay said with a shrug. “Good job with that scooter, by the way. The owner picked it up just before you got here. You earned that afternoon off.” She smiled at him, and flashed another grin at Gavin, who took a half step back. With a laugh and a small wave, Lindsay went back inside, leaving the two alone.

“What was that?” Ryan asked, finally facing Gavin.

“Nothing,” he said, too fast for Ryan's liking. He narrowed his eyes, but the look got bristling and a frown from Gavin, so he sighed and dropped it in favor of going back inside.

As he thought, Gavin stayed out. Ryan ignored it, making his way past the tables to where Griffon was working. He was correct about her papers, the blueprints for a motorcycle spread beneath her painted fingers. He doubted she needed them, but Griffon was keen on keeping up to date and refreshing her knowledge. With something as complicated as a bike, she liked to go over the specifics of the model before tackling the job. “Boss?”

Her head whirled up, and she shifted from her stiff pose over the counter's edge to a more relaxed one, crossing her arms. “Ryan,” she said, looking him up and down. It was easy to mistake for scrutiny, but Ryan learned early on that Griffon cared a little too much about her employees. On a particularly bad day, when he came in with bags under his eyes and exhaustion in his bones, Griffon saw it immediately and sent him home. Her examinations were about health and safety, even if they made him shiver under her gaze. “Good job on the scooter,” she said, apparently finding nothing wrong. “You can leave around twelve thirty, if that's what you wanted to know, and get an early start on the weekend.”

“Thanks. But that's not what I'm here to talk about.” Ryan turned to the doorway, catching sight of Gavin sneaking around the edge of it. When Ryan looked, he stopped, fingers tight on the wooden door frame. “I found a wayward robot last night,” he said, turning back.

Griffon's eyes darted to Gavin, and lit up. “Is he responsible for the mess in my storage room?” Her tone was lilting and eager, and Ryan guessed she was too excited to be mad.

“Yes. He climbed through the window, though I don't know _how_ , because he was broken as hell when I found him. As far as I can tell, he doesn't have an owner, and he's still pretty beat up. I ordered some parts for him off the company credit card. I can pay you back for it over time, I just.” He stopped, swallowing around the lump in his throat, and he glanced at Gavin again. “I didn't want him to keep suffering.”

Her eyes lost their sharp edge, opening to something softer as she reached out and patted him on the shoulder. “You're too kind for your own good.” She glanced at Gavin again, chuckling when he flinched. “He's cute.” She tilted her head, considering him, and her lips quirked up. “I'll keep the repair charge off for now, but he's _your_ responsibility, Ryan. I don't want him taking away from your productivity. Is that clear?” She sat her hands on her hips, cocking them to one side to stilt her pose in the casual confidence she carried with ease.

Ryan nodded swiftly. “Yes, ma'am.”

Griffon laughed and shook her head. “How many times do I have to tell you not to call me that?” She slapped his shoulder, hard enough to make him stumble. “I'm going to help Caleb for a minute before Lindsay and I start today's project. See if Brandon needs anything.” She sauntered to the other end of the shop, where Caleb had his hands on the watch Gavin had been messing with. The gears were too small for even his thin fingers, and in a minute Griffon had her paws on them, clawing through the disjointed mess and slipping cogs together before Caleb could ask her.

Ryan shifted his gaze, landing on Gavin still frozen in the doorway. If anyone else noticed him, they hadn't said anything, and he hoped that was a sign that they were either too busy or too used to robots by this point to care. He doubted it was the latter, and took his time walking back to the door in case he drew attention. “Hey,” he said quietly. “You don't need to hide there.”

Gavin pursed his lips, fingers clenching over the wood still tight in his grip. “I'm not _hiding,_ ” he said, spitting out the last word. “I'm observing.”

Ryan snorted. “Right. Observe from the inside, where I can keep an eye on you. I have work to do and I don't want you outside in this heat.”

Reluctantly, Gavin let go of the door frame, and nudged his way inside. Ryan held the edge of the door until he was past it, and shut it gratefully to keep the growing heat of the morning out of the shop. Once inside, Gavin stood near the center of the room, his hands at the hem of his shirt, hair falling in his eyes. Ryan brushed it out of the way, sending Gavin into a sputter and he batted him away, but Ryan was already walking toward Brandon, who was stationed near his own work space. “Brandon, what's up?”

He was blowing a bubble of gum, popping it when he saw Ryan. “Hey, good morning. I'm good.” His eyes flicked to a spot over Ryan's shoulder. “Who's that? Oh, wait.” He stood straighter to get a better look, and Ryan looked with him. Gavin was closer now, and shrunk under Brandon's gaze. “Is that a fucking robot? Is that what you were talking to the boss lady about?”

“Ah, yeah.” Ryan swallowed. “He came in here last night, all beat up. Speaking of which.” He narrowed his eyes, shifting to block Brandon's view. “We need better security cameras. Gavin-- the robot, he snuck in through the god damned _windows_ , fifteen feet off the fucking ground, and I thought it was some burglar at first. We only have the one camera at the front of the shop, it would do to at least have one at the back, too.”

Brandon's lips twisted in the sneer he got when he thought someone was talking down to him. “Do you know how much it would have cost to have someone install another camera? They come in sets, you know. Buy one camera or buy like, four, and I already put the first one in myself. If you wanna buy another camera and get on the ladder to put in all the wiring, be my guest.”

Ryan held up his hands to calm Brandon, exhaustion already seeping into him. They'd had this discussion before, many times, and Griffon refused to settle it. As she said, she put Brandon in charge of security for a reason, so she wouldn't have to deal with it. “I'm just saying, if a broken robot can get in, a human would probably do it no problem. If we lose equipment, it's on your head.”

Brandon opened his mouth to retort, but there was a sound behind them, and both men turned to see Gavin glaring. The grip on his shirt hem, previously meek, was now harsh, and twisted the fabric close to the point of tearing. Listening closer, Ryan could hear his insides humming, the parts working hard against each other as Gavin's AI ratcheted up its use.

Fuck, that wasn't good. Ryan rushed over and tried to put a placating hand on Gavin's shoulder, only to be shaken off. “Gavin, what--”

“No. Leave me alone,” he seethed, stepping back. “I'm waiting in the back room. Let me know if you've got another part to put in or whatever.” He walked away, practically running if not for the bad knee that made him flinch once, almost crumpling under his own weight, before he yanked open the door on the other side of the room and scurried inside. It shut loudly, enough that almost everyone lifted their heads to look.

“Yeesh.” Brandon clucked his tongue. “I've never seen a robot like _that_. Where'd he come from, anyway?”

“I don't know,” Ryan said sharply, watching the storage room door. “He doesn't have license papers and didn't mention an owner.” He turned to look at Brandon. “Do me a favor and think about budgeting those cameras, before we're robbed blind. I have work to do.” With the conversation dropped, Ryan walked back to his own station near the center of the shop, picking up the list of tasks he'd left for himself on the cork board fastened to the wall, where they hung the tools while they were in use. He resisted the urge to look at the back room again. If he got distracted, Griffon would bring the hammer down on his head. Besides, Gavin wanted to be left alone.

Caleb and Kdin, two hard workers who liked to deal with people more than machines, both asked about Gavin, pleasantly surprised to find out he was a robot. Neither had gotten a good enough look to see the seams in his plastic, or how the metal in his eyes flashed. Ryan shrugged off their questions, which was easy enough since he knew very little about Gavin himself, and focused as best he could on his work. With six people in a relatively small space, in one of the lonelier parts of town, it wasn't long before the noon lull came around, when everyone had finished their morning tasks but it was too early to take lunch yet. Several times, Brandon and Caleb tried to go in the back to see Gavin up close, but Ryan shot them looks and they backed off.

When the other men stopped trying to get in the back room, Ryan let himself sink into his work. He tinkered with a broken laptop someone had piled on him a couple days ago. The storage room called to him like a siren song, begging him to check on Gavin and make sure he was all right, that at least he'd found the light and hadn't shut himself in the dark, but the way Gavin looked at him before running off kept coming back to him. Whatever he said, it'd upset the poor robot immensely. His owner must have taught him a thing or two about anger, if he were reacting this strongly. Most robots were designed to be obedient.

He narrowed his eyes, pausing his work to recall how scared Gavin had been last night, yet still indignant and ready to shove Ryan off the second he tried touching him. Something truly awful must have happened, and it wasn't wholly for Gavin's sake that Ryan didn't want to know.

The clock on the wall read twelve twenty, and that was close enough to Griffon's approved end of his shift that Ryan got up. The quiet buzzing of work and chatter slowed, but didn't stop, when he moved across the room to the door that joined their main shop with the garage. He leaned in the open doorway, catching sight of Griffon and Lindsay working over the motorcycle he'd seen blueprints for. It was a Harley, for sure, with wheels inflated to bursting and an enormous dent in the side. The driver probably put too much air in the wheels and subsequently crashed somewhere on the road. Ryan blinked at it, glad he didn't have the cash or bravado required to buy a bike like that. “Hey, Griffon?” he said, shifting to look at her.

“Yeah?” She sat up, wiping an oily hand across her brow.

“I'm gonna take that afternoon off, okay?”

Griffon checked her watch, and nodded. “Yeah, all right. Thanks again for finishing the rush job, I'll try not to do that to you again. The scooter looked good when it got picked up.”

“Thanks.” Ryan waved to her, and moved back inside, walking to the back room. The door had been firmly shut, but he could see light peeking out underneath the bottom edge. Ryan tried the knob, finding it unlocked, and pulled the door back. “Gavin?”

The robot sat on one of the upturned crates, one leg crossed over the other and bouncing rapidly. He had both hands on the edge of the crate, drumming across the plastic. He jumped when Ryan called him, and scowled. “What do you want?”

“It's time to go home,” he said. “I was gonna call the manufacturer about your parts and then head out. Unless, you want to stay here?” The option didn't sit well with him, and he regretted saying it as soon as it left his mouth. No doubt the others would jump on a chance to ask Gavin questions, once Ryan was gone.

Gavin dropped the scowl, eyes going a bit wider. “I could stay here?”

“Well.” Ryan scratched the back of his head. “You'd have to go home with someone else at the end of the day, since you can't stay here alone when the shop closes. But, yeah. If you wanted.”

“No,” Gavin said, so quickly Ryan went stiff. His voice softening, Gavin repeated, “No. You're the one fixing me, I might as well stick with you.”

Relief washed through him, and Ryan smiled a little. “Okay. Be ready to go soon, I'll be right back after I make this call.” He left the door open as he walked out, and Gavin didn't get up to shut it. The men in the room peeked up from their work to look, but Gavin was sitting too far beyond the wall to see him without going inside, and Ryan made sure to stand nearby as he drew out his phone.

A machine picked up the line, and he pressed buttons on command until he got to the service he wanted, brightening at the sound of an actual person. “Hello, yes, I have some questions about parts for a robot that I ordered.”

A feminine sounding voice answered him. “Well, sir, I am perfectly equipped to assist you. What questions do you have?”

Ryan frowned at the odd choice of wording, but said, “I ordered replacement parts based on my knowledge of American models, but the robot in question is actually from the UK.” He paused, looking at his coworkers. They ducked their heads, pretending they hadn't been listening. “Is that a problem?”

After a pause, the person on the line said, “No, sir, it should not be. The largest discrepancy between models from the United Kingdom and those made in America are the artificial intelligence systems. Unless your order contains software, there should be no problems.”

The scripted format of the words struck him, and Ryan narrowed his eyes. They were speaking in a monotone that even phone operators didn't have. “Can I ask something else?”

“Yes, sir?”

“Are you a robot?”

They didn't hesitate with their answer. “Yes, sir, I am. Our customer service line is fifty percent robotic persons, in order to increase efficiency and display confidence in our products. All robots working our phones are made with parts from this very company.”

Ryan nodded along, looking at the floor. “Okay. Thank you, that's all I wanted.”

“Have a good day, sir.”

He hung up and slipped the phone back in his pocket. It shouldn't surprise him. Robots were more common by the day, especially for companies that had the money to afford their purchase and maintenance. The robot speaking to him was right, it was impressive to have them answering phones and taking questions. And at least now he knew there shouldn't be a problem with Gavin. His software seemed intact, if still a little scared of humans. That was something Ryan could deal with, as long as Gavin got his body fixed up.

Ryan leaned across the doorway again. “Ready?” he asked.

Gavin was standing now, touching his faulty knee. He straightened the second he noticed Ryan, and nodded sharply. Ryan waved for him to follow. “Hey, I'm going home,” he said, turning to the rest of the room. “Have a good weekend, guys.”

Caleb and Kdin waved. Brandon muttered something, not looking up from his work. Ryan waited for Gavin to settle at his side, and grabbed his coat from the rack. Outside, it was the hottest part of the day, the high sun beating down heavily on their town as the sunlight shone off the windows of the buildings around them. Ryan shielded his eyes and walked out slowly, compensating for Gavin's pace. A few times he had to stop, and Gavin made disgruntled noises at the pitying looks, so Ryan kept to staring ahead when he let Gavin catch up.

The lack of rain helped the walk, and he didn't mind that it took longer than usual to get to his car, soaking in the sun now that he didn't have his coat on. Working inside all day, Ryan didn't have many chances to get out, and the mugginess had faded enough that it didn't make him sweat to linger in the light while they walked.

He wasn't surprised when Gavin got in the back seat again. Ryan started the car and drove down the street, prepared to go home. He thought of what he would make for dinner, picturing the sparse contents of his fridge. Gavin had spoken up about it, the only time Ryan heard him speak earnestly since they'd met. He slowed at the next stop sign, pursing his lips while he thought.

“Do you mind a detour?” he said, looking back at Gavin, who didn't move from where his head leaned on the door.

“Where?”

“Grocery store.”

That got him a snort. “Are you going to properly feed yourself?”

“Hey.” Ryan shifted back to watch the road, but glared playfully at Gavin in the rear view mirror. “I eat well enough.”

Gavin shrugged, legs falling to the floor from where they'd been curled against his chest. “I know a couple things about humans, and I know that what you have right now isn't good enough for a steady diet.”

“Then you won't mind driving to get groceries, will you?” Ryan made the turn even as he said it. He looked at Gavin as much as he dared while he drove, and caught a little smirk; he didn't answer, but for once, the non response wasn't filled with anger or fear. Ryan hummed pleasantly and tapped a rhythm on his steering wheel.

The superstore was filled with people popping in for cheap lunch supplies. Cars filled the parking lot, glinting in the light, and shopping carts were crowded in front of the automatic doors as people walked in and out, taking carts or leaving empty ones in the haphazard pile. Ryan pulled in and found a parking space away from the door, tucking his car underneath a tree where the shade would keep the heat off. He swung an arm over the back of the chair. “Do you want to come inside?”

Gavin took one look at the number of cars in the lot, and shook his head. “Too crowded.”

“Hm.” Ryan looked too, surveying the storefront and the people rushing in and out. “All right, I'll lock the car. If it gets too hot, unlock it and roll the windows down. I'll try to be quick.” He opened the door and stepped out, stretching. “I'll be back.”

“Get ingredients for stir fry.”

Ryan stopped, and turned back, where Gavin was poking his head between the front seats to look at him. “Stir fry is easy to make,” he said. “Rice and vegetables with some chicken makes for a good set of meals, and it's not too expensive.”

They stared at each other a moment, until Ryan cracked a smile, and ducked down to give Gavin a quick pat on the shoulder. He jerked back, like he always did, but it wasn't as fast, and he kept watching Ryan as he stood and shut the door. Once it was locked, and he double checked that the shading from the tree was sufficient to keep the car from boiling in the noon sun, Ryan walked to the superstore with a little skip in his step.

The air conditioning was an icy blast when Ryan got inside, and he shivered a little as he grabbed a small shopping basket and started down the isles. He kept Gavin's words in mind as he plucked items from the shelves, starting down the dairy aisle and working his way through the store. He didn't have the grocery list he'd tacked onto his fridge, but he could remember most of what was on it, and searched for what he knew he needed.

Because it was expensive, Ryan rarely bought meat. He got his protein from dairy products, usually by putting cheese in whatever else he happened to be making. The chicken wasn't as expensive, though, and he wanted to take Gavin at his word about stir fry being easy and cheap. Food was the only thing Gavin had bothered to be open about. Perhaps he worked in a kitchen with his previous owner. It would explain _some_ of the damage he'd gotten; robots that worked around knives and open stoves took more maintenance than others, although the food industry hadn't been the most accepting about using them. A lot of people only trusted human judgment when it came to making food without accidentally giving a person something inedible or undercooked. His opinion seemed sure, though, and Ryan figured it couldn't hurt to listen to him.

He tucked the last of his items in his basket and strolled to the front, scanning the racks lazily for anything interesting. Gum, candies, and tiny little gifts were artfully arranged to tempt anyone checking out with a last minute purchase. Ryan passed them by and took a spot in line, looking up to examine the cashier. He did a double take when he saw who they were.

A robot, obvious in their static movements and the texture of their skin, was cashing customers out and bagging their groceries. They looked feminine, with a soft face and long hair tied back in a ponytail. Their dainty hands took his items from the basket as he shuffled forward in line, deftly scanning each one and placing it in a bag before turning to him with a smile. “Fifty two, forty seven, sir.”

Ryan nodded, pulling out his wallet to shell out some bills. He stared as the robot took his money and made change, padding their fingers across the slots that separated the different bills. A second later, he realized they were counting, and it was probably programmed into them to be sure they didn't give wrong change by mistake.

There hadn't been a robot working here last time he went shopping. Ryan took his change and couldn't help sweeping his eyes over them again, from head to waist, where the counter blocked the view of their legs. Their dark skin glinted, but it was empty of the tiny hairs Gavin had littering his arms and legs.

“Please move along, sir.”

Ryan blinked, and felt his cheeks heat when he saw the other customers waiting behind him. “Right, sorry. Thank you.” He grabbed his grocery bags and hurried out, sighing at his own behavior. Robots weren't new, and he'd seen plenty of every shape and size at the shop in his years working there.

But he'd never seen one at the superstore before, much less one that looked rather advanced. Aside from the lack of body hair, they were similar to Gavin in the build of their outer appearance and resemblance to humans. Most of the cheaper robots lacked facial or body definition, and had a default skin tone of white, a little detail that rubbed Ryan the wrong way. That robot had most certainly been unique, possibly a custom build.

He stopped briefly outside the store to dig in his pockets and toss change into the cup held by the homeless man that sat on the sidewalk by the entrance almost every day. He smiled at Ryan and gave a little wave, but he was too busy thinking to wave back.

Maybe the robot at the cashier had been a gift, or a purchase from someone higher up in the store's chain that had the money to spend. But what did it say when something that was considered such a luxury had a minimum wage position at the local grocery store? Ryan ran a hand through his hair, shaking his head. He didn't want to think about it now, with his own robot to take care of and the rest of the day to relax and maybe catch up on sleep.

He unlocked the car and opened the back, setting the plastic bags on the seat next to Gavin, who perked up and pulled one edge of a bag to peek at what was inside.

“I got what you suggested,” Ryan said, as he got in the driver's seat. “Some vegetables and chicken to fry up tonight. You better be right about it, though. I've never made stir fry before.” He shot a playful grin at the rear view mirror.

Gavin didn't return it, but when he sat back, he didn't curl up by the window again. “Of course I'm right,” he said, with mock hurt in his tone. “And I know how to make it, too, so you're in luck.”

Ryan laughed, open and loud, enough to startle Gavin as he made his way out of the main city. If he got to examine and observe a robot up close, and got a good cook out of the deal, he could honestly say that housing Gavin was worth the effort of fixing him.

 


	4. roots have to end somewhere

 

If one thing could be said for Gavin, it was that he liked his routines.

After spending a week with Ryan, he'd established his little patterns, and he stuck to them as best he could. It started by waking up in the morning to his internal alarm, getting up from the couch, and walking to the kitchen to open the curtains on the windows. Ryan kept them closed at night, shutting out the lingering darkness beyond the window, and Gavin appreciated the subtle gesture. In the morning it was fair game, though, and he liked to tie the curtains to the window frame to keep them open and let the light spill in.

After the first night, Gavin switched to the couch. Ryan didn't care for it, given how he objected, but he couldn't compete with logic. Gavin was a robot and he didn't need a comfy bed. He  didn't even need to be laying on something, shutting down as easily when he stood as he did on a bed.  Gavin nearly broke his apparent vow against caring for Ryan in any sort of personal manner to argue with him about why he should take the bed back . He did relent eventually, if only because sleeping on the couch had been a nightmare for him and his aching spine. 

Gavin didn't shut down completely every night. That would be silly, since he could operate for several days without rest. He went into idle mode, eyes closed and body lax, but ready to jump up the second someone called for him, effectively cutting out the ridiculously long start up process. He found sitting straight up on the couch served that purpose better than laying on it, and it made going to the kitchen every morning simpler.

It might not have been the best place for him, considering why he was here, but Gavin liked the kitchen. It was painted a mottled yellow, designs etched into the borders of the wall in some vague pattern that might have once been flowers or birds, but now was so scratched away that he could only see ill defined shapes. The space was more cramped than anything he had experience with, but it also gave a homey edge to everything. He could run his hands over the worn granite counter tops and in the same turn flip the sink on or open the fridge without taking ten steps just to get there. The stained orange floor was bright and a poor contrast to the yellow, but the plastic textured covering was softer on his feet than the linoleum of the last kitchen he practically lived in.

After opening the windows and pacing the kitchen for a while, Ryan usually woke up, around seven or seven thirty, and got in the shower. He knew where Gavin was, and Gavin was in no hurry to make conversation, so he listened to the sounds of the water running as he wandered back and forth. It might be better to keep himself in the living room, maybe turn the television on or finally crack open a book and see what reading them was like, but the living room felt strange to him with its ugly green carpet and the couch so lumpy he didn't see how any human could survive sitting on it day after day. The kitchen was familiar territory, and he stayed there.

He refused to cook for Ryan, though. Despite picking up bits and pieces from past experience, enough to teach Ryan how to make stir fry, he'd never been programmed to cook. Gavin didn't want to try repaying Ryan by burning his house down. Manual learning in robots was possible, and necessary to adapt to human life, which shifted and changed by the hour, but it was slower. Gavin had to spend nearly as long, and sometimes longer, than a human if he wanted to learn a skill without some kind of data pack to teach him what to do. And data packs cost a lot; Ryan wouldn't be able to afford one, and probably didn't have any extras lying around.

Gavin settled for hovering while Ryan made his breakfast. The stir fry went well, and Ryan made a big pot after he found he could cook it without destroying his food. It kept for a while in the fridge and it was simple for him to reheat in his microwave, so Ryan took to eating it most of the time. He packed it in little tupperware boxes for lunch and had a bowl of it for dinner, the heavy smell of chicken and spices registering in Gavin's nose even though it didn't appeal to him.

The exception was breakfast, either because Ryan didn't have time to make leftovers or he wanted to vary his diet. That usually consisted of eggs, toast, or a hastily made sandwich, along with coffee. Gavin crossed his arms and sent waves of disapproval through carefully placed glares at the food, chastising Ryan for his nutritional choices without actually calling him on it. Ryan laughed or smiled when Gavin did that, and it made his nostrils flare, but any display of anger that wasn't motivated by Gavin's past experiences just seemed to tickle Ryan, and more often than not got him a pat on the head.

He had to avoid that more than he liked. Ryan was _touchy_ , and the obviousness of Gavin's discomfort didn't deter him in the least. He was quick to back off when Gavin shied away, but the problem was remembering not to do it in the first place, which Ryan failed at repeatedly. The worst were the little head pats he seemed to love.

Gavin's hair, both on his body and splayed over his head, worked like sensory detectors, sending the sensation of touch through his follicles in a way his skin couldn't achieve on it's own. It helped his spacial awareness and gave him a consistent way to feel the world around him without relying on the sensors in his skin that were, admittedly, not as good as human touch. But it made any sort of hard contact light up his senses like a light show, and when Ryan ruffled his hair or swiped a hand through the locks in some attempt to congratulate or thank Gavin, he couldn't resist shivers or hitched breath as his AI processed the touch.

For his model, it was necessary.

It annoyed the hell out of him, though, because Ryan wasn't his owner and he didn't want any type of reaction to him. So he usually moved away or, more recently, slapped away the offending hands, until Ryan got the message and left him alone. It covered up his reactions nicely, and it got Ryan away.

Besides the touching, living at Ryan's was nice. Gavin could linger in the living room with him, on the couch or in the little chair beside it that Ryan dragged out of the corner when he saw Gavin trying to get space. Ryan occupied himself either with TV, games, or reading. The games were the most interesting, and a reminder of his old home. Gavin watched with more interest than he should have as Ryan logged into his online gaming account and swiped across digital maps, killing other players and going on missions. The display on his tiny TV made it difficult to see what happened some of the time, and Gavin didn't know enough about games to always keep track or understand what Ryan did, but it broke the silences that tended to hang between them. After a few hours, Ryan would unplug his console and tuck it in the cabinet that the TV sat on, asking Gavin, once again, if he needed the bed.

He didn't, he never did, and Ryan always stared for a minute before leaving to brush his teeth and call it a night. Gavin waited out the night in idle mode, sometimes sitting for an hour or two to process his memories and mull over the events of the day. It was a decent way to live, and Ryan paid a lot of attention to him, asking him questions and engaging Gavin in conversation. The questions were pesky, and Gavin usually refrained from answering because they hit too close to home, but it was nice to think that Ryan genuinely wanted to know.

Work was interesting, too. Gavin hung around Ryan most of the time because he didn't know anyone else there, and Ryan was better than a stranger. After a while, the other people stopped staring at him so much, but they still came up and tried to talk to him if they had a minute free. He liked Lindsay, despite her abrasiveness and tendency to, like Ryan, treat him like a kid. Brandon never spoke much. Caleb acted fascinated at every little thing he did, and Kdin had a silent appreciation for him that showed in the way he watched whenever Gavin moved around the shop.

Griffon was the most casual about his presence, and when he flinched away from her touches, she stopped immediately, instead smiling at him and pulling him into conversation when she talked to Ryan. She had a lot of ink on her arms, the permanent kind of art that Gavin had seen on some humans, and it accentuated her movements, the pictures rippling with her muscles as she carried heavy equipment, hair falling in her face when it was freed from her ponytail. The way she respected Gavin but still engaged him was both frustrating and wonderful, because Gavin still didn't trust humans, but she made it bloody hard.

He came with Ryan to work every day, to make things easier. Ryan didn't trust him to stay alone after that first reaction when they met, and Gavin could understand that. He pretended not to be secretly relieved when Ryan got ready for work and walked to the door, turning to ask if Gavin was coming, every single time.

Wednesday of the next week was another hot day, as it had been most days after the torrential downpour. Some days were milder, but heat was typical in Austin, and baked the city dry of its water. In the late spring, dragging into summer, it surprised no one. Gavin double checked his internal operations, to be sure the oppressive heat hadn't boiled him from the inside. The sooner he got his coolant systems fixed, the better, and when they walked in the shop that morning, he wondered how much longer it would take for the replacement parts to come in.

“Ryan, catch!”  
Gavin jumped and ducked, as Ryan caught the box Lindsay had tossed at him. Straightening himself and trying to look like he hadn't been caught off guard, Gavin peeked at the box, reading the address labels as Ryan turned it. If the labels hadn't told him what it was, Ryan's smile would have, as he flashed that sunshine filled grin of his that he loved to use.

“It's your spare parts! Or, some of them.” He looked at the box again, tilting it forward and back to look at it from different angles, bringing it up to his ear to shake lightly and listen to the jumbling inside. “I don't think it's everything, there's not enough in here. But, it's a good start.” He smiled at Lindsay. “When did this come in?”

“Early this morning.” She tapped the box. “Good choice to buy from, too, they do good work. We're having kind of a slow day, so I think it's fine if you put them on your robot right away.”

“I'm not _his_ ,” Gavin said, as he had many times this past week. That he lived with Ryan and followed him around seemed to mean Gavin belonged to him, even though Ryan hadn't filed papers or reset his owner designation. As far as Gavin was concerned, he still belonged to his old owner. And he'd rather keep it that way.

Lindsay only shrugged off his words and poked at it his shoulder. Gavin moved back and rubbed the touch out of the spot, frowning at her. Lindsay was less touchy than Ryan, but she seemed to think his aversion to it could be cured by _more_ touching. “You might as well be,” she said, and jerked her chin at Ryan. “At least while he's fixing you up. Oh, but that reminds me.” She turned and made a noise to catch Ryan's attention. He'd been pulling the tape off the box, but looked up when she cleared her throat.

“Yeah?”

“Are you going to turn him in?” Lindsay shrugged her shoulder toward Gavin. “He's lost, isn't he? I bet the police have a report on a missing robot by now.”

“Oh, right.” Ryan laughed and brought a hand up to scratch the back of his neck. Gavin narrowed his eyes. Ryan only did that neck thing when he was nervous, rubbing his own skin to keep his hands occupied, the way Gavin did when grabbing onto something like his clothes or his own body. It was a nervous habit, and to see it when Ryan was discussing _him_ didn't sit well. “Yeah,” he continued, “I haven't had the chance. The police station is across town, you know? Besides, what owner would let him stay lost so long that he got _that_ broken?” Ryan gestured to Gavin, who went stiff. “I only took the bandages for his skin off him recently, and he's got a bunch of internal problems. I don't think that anybody who cared about their robot would leave them to get damaged like that.”

Lindsay tilted her head, considering. “You have a point there. Still. Call the station soon, all right?”

“Yeah, sure.” Ryan smiled again and waved at Lindsay, walking to his work area quickly to finish removing the tape from the box. Gavin followed, stopping next to the counter and watching carefully as Ryan yanked the tape off and opened the cardboard flaps. His movements were fast, and harsher than Gavin thought necessary, but he didn't speak, waiting for Ryan to set the bubble wrap aside and pull pieces of plastic and metal out, setting them on the counter.

He didn't understand what any of them did. Gavin wasn't versed in robotics or engineering, and the pile looked like nothing more than a lump of jutting pieces, motors and cogs and weird shapes shoved together. When it was the size of two fists put together, the pile got shoved aside, and Ryan turned to him, patting the table. “Up you go,” he said, beaming again without a trace of the worry that took over him minutes ago. “The water pump for your liquid cooling system is in here. Given the heat, I think it best that we fix that first.”

Gavin let his shoulders drop from their usually tense position, lips quirking up despite his lack of smiles in . . . well, a long time. He'd _finally_ have the water cooling system fixed, and then his fan wouldn't have to sputter and spin every time he worked his body too hard. When he got emotional or pushed his physical abilities, it struggled to compensate without the cushion his water system provided. Like human veins, the plastic tubes that went through his body cycled cool water through him when his body worked itself too hard, keeping his insides calm and comfortable. The temperature of his metal parts rocketing up could easily break something, and ever since Gavin felt the water stop pumping through him one day while in the streets, he'd worried he would overheat.

He hopped on the counter with more eagerness than he usually showed, and Ryan must have noticed, quirking his eyebrow up curiously. Gavin ignored him and looked down at the pile of replacement parts meant for him, wondering which was the pump and how long it would take Ryan to fix.

“Gavin,” Ryan said gently, reaching a hand out. He didn't touch Gavin, only waved in his face to catch his attention. Gavin looked at him, wide eyes blinking fast, like they had when his vision stopped working. Ryan put his hand down and smiled in the way that Gavin didn't appreciate, the soft one that he recognized from the way he'd seen parents look at children. It was amused, and slightly sad.

“I have to shut you down,” he said gently, gesturing to the parts beside them. “It's gonna take a while to put these in, and it'll be hard if you're conscious. Would you mind . . .?” Ryan left the question unfinished, watching Gavin carefully.

He didn't see the reason for the caution. Gavin had been shut down before. But then Ryan's eyes went narrow for a half second, like he expected Gavin to get upset, and he understood. This was going to be invasive, probably more so than when Ryan helped him the night they met. Ryan wasn't just looking at him, he was going to be digging around and moving things, and Gavin was at risk if he took something out and didn't put it back the right way. He clenched his fingers on the edge of the counter and bent his back, curling into himself for a moment before straightening out again. “It's fine,” he said, keeping the waver out of his tone. “It's how I work, I get it.” It didn't mean he liked it, but Gavin didn't have to tell him that. Trust wasn't the right word for what he felt toward Ryan, but it was close, and the man hadn't broken him so far. If he had to shut Gavin down to fix him, so be it.

“All right.” Ryan brushed his hands off on his pants and tousled his hair, sweeping it out of his face. He grabbed a few tools, organizing the pieces on the counter, as Gavin pulled up his shirt to reveal his back. On the lower portion, in the small dip of his spine, sat a three inconspicuous buttons that weren't detectable if a person didn't look for them specifically. Beside them were several ports for plugging him in, covered by plastic flaps that only moved when pushed aside, keeping his system closed to the outside.

One of the buttons shut him down, another sent him into idle mode, and the third unlatched the panel all three sat in, that let people have access to his internal parts. The buttons were distinguished from his skin by the cut out edges around them, otherwise looking exactly like the rest of his skin without an indent or protrusion. In the same way, they sat in the center of a panel, invisible except for the thin edges that allowed it to be taken out.

It was the perfect spot. Gavin could reach them if need be, but because they didn't protrude, they were almost never accidentally hit, and it was relatively easy for a human to find and use them. Dirt and grime hit him the worst there during his time outside, and it had taken Ryan the better part of an hour to scrub around the edges of his paneling where it had caked up and made his buttons almost non functional. Gavin could shut himself down or idle himself manually, but it took much longer, and he preferred to use the buttons if he could.

He half turned on the table to present himself, holding the shirt up and away from his back. Ryan had finished organizing his tools and had work gloves on now, peering at him. Gavin looked back as best he could from the awkward angle, only able to see Ryan's shoulder when he stepped close, but he felt the fingers ghosting over his back and jerked forward.

Ryan chuckled. “This is why I need to shut you down. Sorry. I can't have you moving too much.” His fingers settled on Gavin's lower back, just over the panel, and Gavin did his best not to complain or make noise.

“It's fine,” he repeated, more for himself than Ryan. “Wake me up when you're done.”

“Of course. It won't be too long.”

The last thing Gavin felt before he lost consciousness was Ryan's other hand pressing on his chest, holding him still and keeping him from falling on his face when his body went limp.

 

* * *

 

Upon waking, Gavin saw the ceiling, and wondered why his world had gone suddenly upside down.

The mystery quickly solved itself when his sense of gravity kicked in, and Gavin registered that he was on his back. Noises came to him, flooding his ears, and he flinched against it. The shop was always so damn _loud_ , and it took a moment of adjustment before his hands found purchase on the table he'd been situated on, forcing his body up.

It was the table in the center of the room, one of a couple that were used when employees were working on something with one another and there wasn't room to crowd in their tiny spaces on the counter against the wall. One table had a wood surface, like the counter, to prevent metal tools clashing on it and keeping human hands a degree safer in case they smashed against it. But the center table was metal, presumably for the more dangerous work, and it clanged as Gavin brought his legs close to him.

That alerted everyone else, who had turned to look at him. Gavin swept his eyes across the room, and found Ryan immediately, standing on his other side. He had both hands hovering over the table, no doubt touching Gavin moments ago, and his eyes were shining with hope and anticipation. Gavin shuffled an inch away, barely enough to notice. “How long was it?”

“About an hour and a half.” It wasn't Ryan who answered, but Lindsay, strutting towards the table with cocked hips. She rested her hands on said hips and swept her eyes over Gavin, grinning. “We were all a little fascinated by it, actually. We don't get robots in here very often, much less ones as broken as you are. Or, were, I guess, since you're less broken now.”

Gavin eyed her warily. It took about two days in the shop to realize Lindsay was a force to be reckoned with, who took no disrespect and called out, “Bitches ain't shit!” when the men in the building complained about her behavior, and whose smile usually meant she thought she was being clever about something. Gavin had thought swearing during work hours was frowned upon by most, but it seemed the repair shop had a more lax air than other places of employment. And given how often he saw Lindsay and Griffon, the boss, together, he guessed she had some kind of authority.

With a blink, he shifted his attention to Ryan. He was about as trustworthy as the rest of the humans in the building, but at least his reactions were more predictable. “What did you fix?”

“Your cooling system, mostly.” Ryan shrugged, an awkward stiffness creeping into his shoulders. “I figured it was important in the Texas heat. Your manual temperature regulation can't keep up as well by itself.”

Gavin let his lips quirk up in a grateful smile. Life would be much more bearable if he wasn't almost overheating every other minute. “You said mostly,” he pointed out, fingers itching with the need to get up from the table and move around. Sitting on it limited his movement, and Lindsay had moved closer on his other side, crowding his space in a way that was probably comfortable for her, but sent warning signals to Gavin's AI. Maybe it would suit him not to be so afraid of human contact, but at the moment what served him best wasn't really his concern.

He kept his eyes trained on Ryan, waiting.

Ryan made a little motion, from the table to the floor. “Why don't you get up and tell me what you notice?”

The invitation was just what he'd been waiting for, and Gavin ignored how Ryan had passed over his question in favor of swinging his legs over the edge and plopping down. He braced himself, remembering in the half second from the table to the ground that he had a bad knee and jumping only made it worse, flaring the pain signals and urging him to tell his owner what was wrong so it could be fixed, even though he didn't have an owner now and they were already waiting on fixing it, and the pain was useless by now.

When he landed, however, the pain didn't come. Gavin went stiff and bent slightly on impact, surprisingly stable when his feet came down flat, and his legs didn't wobble. Gavin opened his eyes, having closed them unconsciously, and chanced a look at his own feet. He rocked back and forth on his heels, and bent down, crouching, one hand on the broken knee and noting how it wasn't sending any pain to his AI.

He shot a wide eyed look at Ryan, who only beamed that sunshine smile Gavin got whenever they interacted with more than bare civility. Gavin stood and took a few experimental steps forward, and then back, and did a lap around the table. No pain, no collapsing under his own weight, no nothing. His knee was fixed. It was _fixed_ and he could walk again without worrying about keeping himself upright or getting help from someone, it was the way he'd been before going outside and getting hurt. Gavin couldn't help his own smile, then, lips stretching wide as he let out a bark of laughter.

“You fixed my knee!” he said, turning to Ryan. The man had moved beside him as Gavin tested his legs out and he didn't even care, he was too thrilled to be able to _walk_ again.

“Indeed I did,” Ryan said, his laugh matching Gavin's own. “I thought it seemed high priority. Does it feel all right?”

“All right? It's bloody brilliant!” Gavin said, rocking his leg again to test the joint. It was perfect and Ryan couldn't have done a better job.

Without thinking, without even looking directly at Ryan before he did, Gavin launched himself forward, arms outstretched, and wrapped him in a hug, pulling Ryan down to his height as he looped his arms around his neck and bumped his chest heavily with his own body. His face buried itself in his neck, and Gavin let out another happy bubble of laughter. “Thank you, thank you so much!”

Ryan froze under his touch, and Gavin heard a collective gasp. He stopped pushing his nose against Ryan's neck, breaking his mind from whatever enthusiasm it found and suddenly registering what he'd done. He was close, so close, and he could breathe in Ryan's scent, a mixture of sweat and the deodorant Gavin saw in the bathroom whenever he changed the minimal amount of clothing he'd borrowed. His hair swept into Gavin's face from the force of the hug, ticking him and sending him mentally flailing. His own body was picking up everything about Ryan, the comforting warmth, his rapidly beating pulse, and the way tentative hands wrapped around his back, spikes of heating striking his spine as his mind processed his first lingering touch with a human in too many weeks.

As fast as he'd done it, Gavin wrenched himself away. His hands came undone from Ryan's neck and found his chest, shoving hard enough for Ryan to break the gentle hold that he had. He stepped back, hands coming to rest just under his own neck and clenching into fists, working out the excess energy that built up under Ryan's touch.

“S-Sorry,” he managed, as Ryan stared in bewilderment. “I didn't mean that, I-- sorry. But thank you,” Gavin tacked on, lest he look ungrateful. “I appreciate it, really.”

There was a flash of something on Ryan's face, hurt or regret, something Gavin didn't recognize and couldn't place from what he knew of human emotions, but it passed quickly. He reached out to pet Gavin on the head, _again_ , and for the umpteenth time Gavin ducked away and shot Ryan a glare. This time there was no hurt, only mild amusement as Ryan's lips quirked up. “You're welcome,” he said, as he put his hand down. “I'm glad you can walk without stumbling. I was worried you'd hurt yourself.”

Gavin didn't answer, stepping back and testing his leg again. It was glorious, being free of pain after bumbling around the shop and Ryan's house, not to mention scrambling through the streets as he avoided humans and tried to find safe spots to rest. Mobility was a luxury, and if Ryan had done his job right, Gavin would get to keep it, as long as he stayed relatively safe.

Lindsay cocked her hips again, reaching across the table to wave her hand near Gavin's face and grab his attention. “So you can walk,” she said, grinning when Gavin turned to face her. “And your temperature regulation is back to full capacity. As far as movement, you're good as new.” She tilted her head, gesturing toward the rest of the shop behind her. “Why don't you put that new leg to work and help out around here so you can stop moping in the storage room?”

“Lindsay!” Ryan said, his tone chiding even as she raised an eyebrow at him. “He shouldn't be put to work,” he added, quieter. “He's still got some missing parts and broken ones that I have to replace. Plus, he's not designed for the shop. Just because you want us to have a robot doesn't mean you can rope Gavin into it.”

Lindsay scoffed, jutting her chin high in the air, but brought her head down just as fast to show teeth in a smile that could be described as a scheming expression. “Don't think I didn't hear him complaining. Every day he mutters something or other about paying you back for what you've been doing.”

“And I've told him--” Ryan stopped, and looked at Gavin, his eyes going soft. “I told you, I'm doing this because I want to. Not because I want work.” He raised his voice when he said the last sentence, narrowing his eyes at Lindsay.

“You're using company money, though. Griffon told me about using our card for the order.” Her tone wasn't malicious, only stating the facts.

“I'll pay the shop back! I didn't intend to steal money.”

Throughout the exchange, Gavin's eyes darted between Lindsay and Ryan, and he considered what Lindsay said. He _did_ want to pay Ryan back, if only to avoid owing him. From what he said, the parts to fix him must have cost a good amount, and Gavin didn't have any money at all, much less enough to pay back an extravagant amount. The next thing he could think of to do was work.

He'd rather live on the streets again before he serviced humans, though. Gavin had learned his lesson about that the first time.

With that in mind, Lindsay's offer . . . actually made some sense. Work and service were two different things. It was the shop that spent the money, with the company credit card. Gavin had two hands, and he might not be built for it, but he'd watched the employees over the past week and most of what they did was manual and needed only an average amount of strength.

From what he knew, most repair shops were either electronic or auto, and this one was a rare combination of both. The main shop handled electronic repairs, while Lindsay and Griffon specialized in bike repair in the garage. Working with them on motorcycles beyond him, but he could help with computers and stereos, and little electronics that passed over the counters as clients brought them in. Even cases like the scooter Ryan had fixed weren't out of his reach, if he listened to what everyone else told him. He was good with little things. And like any robot, he had the capacity to learn and adapt in a way similar to humans. It might take him longer, but he could do it.

If he could work off his tab for the shop and leave as soon as he was done, he wouldn't owe anyone, he'd be fixed, and he could part ways with Ryan and his coworkers to find someplace to settle. Gavin had no idea where that might be, but he wouldn't stay here any longer than he had to.

Coming back to the argument, Gavin noticed that Lindsay had walked around the table and wedged herself between him and Ryan, getting in Ryan's face despite being a good few inches shorter. “I'm just trying to please Gavin,” she said, raising a hand to gesture to him. “He's the one who's been asking you about a way to pay you back for all this.”

“I'm not making him work!” Ryan spat, stance wide and strong even as he held his hands in a placating motion. “He's broken, Linds, he doesn't need anything else on his plate.”

“Actually,” Gavin piped up, before the exchange could get any worse, “I think Lindsay is right.”

Both of them turned, as did a couple of the men in the back. Gavin's eyes flicked to them, and back. “I _do_ want to pay you back,” he said, looking at Ryan. “You didn't have to fix me. And I don't like owing people, human or robot. Working here doesn't involve much hard labor, right?” Gavin glanced at the tables, full of wires and items the employees were working on. He looked at Ryan's face, stubbornly avoiding his eyes but matching the intensity of the look. “I'm capable of learning. If you take it slow, I can help. Like Lindsay said, I'm able to move around, and if I can work off what my new parts cost, I'll feel a lot better.”

Lindsay and Ryan both raised an eyebrow at what he said, but Lindsay grinned as she saw victory on the horizon. She clapped her hands and beamed at Ryan. “See? He agrees with me!”

Ryan kept his eyes on Gavin, lips pursed. “I don't know, Gavin. You're not built for labor . . .”

“He doesn't have to be,” Lindsay hurried to say. “We were gonna get a labor robot for the shop, but Gavin can help exactly how he is! He can bring us tools, organize the place, even just clean up! He won't owe you squat, and he won't be exerting himself. Plus.” Her smile grew wider. “I'd love a little protege of my own, after the training Griffon's been putting me through.”

“You rang?”

Griffon walked in from the open garage door, lips quirked up as she approached. She eyed first Lindsay, then Ryan, and finally Gavin. Carefully, like she was moving toward a startled animal, she reached a hand out, and pat Gavin's shoulder. Gavin's nostrils flared, but her touch was softer than both Ryan and Lindsay, and his instinct to get away didn't burn as strong. He dealt with it until she removed her hand, and couldn't stop himself from brushing his fingers over his shirt, wiping away the touch.

If Griffon were slighted by that, she didn't show it, turning to look between the two humans. “What's all the commotion about, anyway? I heard you guys screaming over the album I was playing. Thanks for interrupting when I had my mojo going, by the way, very helpful to my productivity.” Her voice was laced with a heavy layer of sarcasm, but with enough real threat underneath to make Lindsay and Ryan look away sheepishly. Ryan ran a hand over the back of his neck, murmuring an apology.

“I want to work,” Gavin said, when neither of them spoke. Griffon turned a curious eye on him, the light in her eyes sparkling. She liked it whenever Gavin spoke, he found, because she only looked at him like that when he was assertive and didn't let Ryan do the talking for him. Bolstered by her reaction, he said, “Ryan is fixing me up, and he's using the company's money to do it. I hate owing people and I want to help out around here. Ryan doesn't think it's a good idea.”

Looking at him, Griffon raised a brow. “Why not?”

“He's not a labor robot,” Ryan said, although his voice was weaker than before as he faced two people and one robot all standing against him. “I don't want him getting hurt if he tries to carry heavy equipment or gets in the way of the tools.”

“Ryan,” Griffon said, clicking her tongue. “You're _doubting_ Gavin. I think it's a great idea.” She smiled, the skin around her eyes crinkling in her mirth. “If you're so worried, we won't have him carry big things, and we'll watch him. Gavin is smart and capable, that much I can surmise from the way he watches everything. Right, Gavin?” She turned to him, expectant.

Gavin ducked his head, weak under her gaze. Griffon acted like a lot of the humans he used to know, strong and not willing to let anyone under her charge get away with fooling her. She made orders and verbally slapped anyone who goofed off when there was work to be done. At the same time, though, she was caring. The best Gavin could compare her to was a human mother, based on how she fretted over her employees and constantly checked the shop for anything it needed, be that supplies or aesthetic improvement. According to Ryan, she had designed a majority of their furniture and layout when she bought the building, and in her stern attitude was an underlying care that spoke to how dedicated she was. Gavin admired dedication more than anything, and her praise made him wonder if humans felt this way when they were fawned over by their parents.

And she didn't lie, either. Gavin did indeed watch everything in the shop, to avoid boredom but also because he was genuinely curious. He wasn't built for labor, like Ryan said, and he had never been in an environment like this before he crashed through the window the week before. It was refreshing, a new experience that Gavin would do his best to keep tucked away in his memory bank even after he left.

Aware that he'd paused too long in his preening under Griffon's words, Gavin forced himself to look at her and say, “Yeah, I think this place is interesting. I don't know a lot, but I can learn.”

“There we have it.” Griffon smirked, and tilted her head toward Ryan. “I'll put him on your watch, and he can help you with your projects. You have the most work save for Lindsay, so I think you could use an extra hand.”

“What about me?” Lindsay cried, pointing to herself in an exaggerated motion that made Gavin think of a child. “I do more than Ryan! And I'd love a robot pupil to take under my wing!”

“You,” Griffon said, swinging her arm over Lindsay's shoulder, “work under me. I'm more than capable of making sure you don't collapse under the effort. Anyway, Ryan found Gavin, and he's the one fixing him, so he knows Gavin's limits better than you could. Although.” Her eyes slid to Gavin, and narrowed. “That brings up another point. Gavin?”

He jumped, having zoned out when Griffon directed her attention to Lindsay. “Yes?”

Griffon bumped Lindsay with her hip, eliciting a small protest from the other woman, and pulled her arm off to cross them both over her chest. “Do you have a preferred term for yourself? I've never been that fond of the word 'robot.' Too mechanical, if you ask me.”

Preferred term? Gavin scrunched his nose. He'd never had anyone ask him. Besides that, what else would he be called? He wasn't human, so he didn't technically count as a person, as much as he might like to. No one ever called him anything but robot, except maybe 'machine' or, on a bad day, 'thing.'

Hanging his head a little, he admitted, “I don't know. Never thought about it.”

“Oh, sweetie.” Griffon uncrossed her arms and gave a little smile. “No one asked, did they?” She shot a pointed look at Ryan, who looked affronted at her accusation. He couldn't deny the truth, though. He called Gavin a robot from day one and never asked him otherwise.

“It doesn't make sense,” Gavin said, lifting his head and looking between them. “A human is a human and they always get called that, why would anyone ask about me being a robot? That's obviously what I am.”

Griffon rolled her eyes and waved a hand, dismissing his words. “Humans named themselves. Robots didn't. I've been reading the news, a lot of people let their robots call themselves something different if they want to. The word 'automaton' gets tossed around a lot, it means 'acting of one's own will.' I'd say that fits Gavin pretty well, don't you think?” Her eyes narrowed with her delight in herself, and Gavin realized she had been thinking of that word the entire time, trying to find a delicate way to introduce it. And the way she looked like she'd tasted something disgusting when she said she didn't like robot . . .

Maybe Griffon was doing this for herself. For whatever reason, she saw fit not to use the common term for mechanical humanoids. But given her attitude and the way she cared for her employees, Gavin doubted she would steer him in the wrong direction, or even point him towards it if she didn't think it was the best thing for him. He didn't know the etymology for robot, but he did know that he had been given almost everything he used in life. His name, his job, his personality, and even his home. For once, it would be nice to make a decision about himself, even at the suggestion of someone else.

“Okay,” he said, and gave a tiny nod. “One's own will, I like that. Use that word.”

“Automaton?” When he nodded again, Griffon's eyes lit up. “Fantastic!” She reached out, going to slap Gavin on the back, but when he cringed she stopped herself, and shook her head before bringing down her hand on Ryan instead. He coughed at the sudden impact. Griffon beamed and rubbed the sore spot. “Gavin's an automaton. Don't forget that any time soon, Ryan. Show him around and let him learn the ropes of the shop, and stop him if it's too much. I have work to do.” She drew back and stood straight with her hands on her hips, staring them down. “Back to the grind, kids. Lindsay, come with me.”

Lindsay made to follow when Griffon turned and walked into the garage, looking back at Gavin briefly to wave. He waved back automatically, and watched her disappear into the noisiest part of the building to work on the bike she and Griffon still had. He wouldn't have minded learning from her, with her enthusiasm and constantly running energy, but he couldn't help feeling a little relieved at the idea of staying with Ryan and working with him. Lindsay would be a handful for another person, let alone a robot with no installed training.

Gavin's lips tilted up. An _automaton_ without training, he reminded himself. He liked the sound of it already.

“Okay, then.” Ryan shrugged, and looked at Gavin. “If we're going to put you to work, then can you do me a favor?”

Gavin turned to him, continuing the trend of not meeting his eyes even though Ryan had his full attention. There was something intimidating about those swirling blue orbs, even if the rest of Ryan spoke of being as gentle as a kitten, and Gavin didn't let himself linger on the weird guilt he got from not looking at them. Guilt wasn't a useful emotion for him, his emulation of human emotions notwithstanding, and he shoved it back as best he could. “What, Ryan?” he said, when the man didn't speak again right away.

He blinked, staring at Gavin for a moment, and waved his hand toward the back of the shop. “Get me a Philips head screwdriver, size two, from the shelf on the wall. If you could,” he added quickly, shooting Gavin an uneasy smile.

Ryan's strange reluctance to have Gavin work, something he couldn't recall seeing in any human he'd met, was forgotten as Gavin turned and looked at the wall. He pursed his lips and furrowed his brow, trying his best to remember what the hell a Philips head screwdriver was. He knew screwdrivers, having been given a bank of common adult human knowledge, and knew other basic tools like wrenches and scissors, but for the life of him, he didn't know what Ryan meant by 'Philips head.'

“Ah.” Gavin turned back to Ryan, shrugging helplessly. “I don't know what that is, actually. Could you describe it?”

Ryan had started to walk back to his work station, and stopped when Gavin spoke again. “You don't . . . oh!” He smacked himself on the forehead, the way he had the first night Gavin came in the shop and he forgot about the rain and the damage it could cause him. Gavin wondered briefly if it was a punishment for acting silly or forgetting things. “I'm sorry,” Ryan said. “You haven't been programmed with any mechanical knowledge. You wouldn't know a Philips from a Robertson, much less the more complicated stuff. Hm.” He shifted, resting his weight on one side as he brought a hand to his mouth, eyes tracing Gavin up and down. Gavin stood rooted to the spot, waiting.

Dropping his hand and brushing past Gavin, Ryan said, “Brandon, do we still have that data pack we bought?”

“What?” Brandon picked his head up from where it was bent over the counter, blinking at Ryan. “Oh, um, I think so? It would probably be in the storage room.”

“Right.” Ryan turned on his heel and stalked to the opposite side of the room with purpose. Gavin hesitated before following. He didn't have anything better to do than see where Ryan was going with all this. When he reached the door, Ryan was already inside the room and rummaging through some boxes on one of the shelves, pulling out bits and pieces of junk before tossing them back in. Gavin wanted to ask what he was doing, but it was pointless considering he would likely find out in a minute.

“Aha,” Ryan said, after quickly rooting through a couple more boxes. He took out a package, holding it in front of himself like a trophy and fingering the labels covering the surface. It was the size of a cereal box, and twice as thick. He shoved the box it had been in back against the wall, and stepped out of the storage room, into the light of the main area. Here, Gavin could see the labels better, and did his best to keep a distance from Ryan while he peeked at it.

_Robotic Data Package: Mechanic's Edition, Volume 1._

Gavin's eyes went wide. That had been what Ryan meant by data pack. He heard of them, but never saw one get used. They were additional software for robots, to add to the standard knowledge they came from the manufacturers with. Academic models were ideal for new installations, but most of the time it was better to buy models designed for specific jobs than risk installing the information manually. Construction robots were different from factory robots, despite both being labor models, and the task of getting a specific set of data packages was best left to the ones who built them.

Certain types of robots were expensive, though. Cheaper owners could opt to buy data packages, just like humans could make their own custom computers. Gavin stared at the one in Ryan's hand for a long moment, and glanced up at him.

“We bought this when we planned to get a robot,” he said, dusting the surface of the box. “We were going to buy a blank labor model and install everything we needed. I don't know how compatible this is for you, but it will give you some basic knowledge of tools and how to use them. What do you think?” He held the box up, facing the front of it towards Gavin. “Do you wanna learn the with this, or have us teach you everything ourselves? We can do it either way.”

Being offered the option was enough to make Gavin want to ask Ryan to repeat the question, unsure if he heard it right, but he was learning fast that the people in this shop didn't treat robots-- automatons-- the same way a lot of others did.

They weren't the only ones. Gavin had watched protesters on television fighting about robots and their right to autonomy, but experiencing it himself was quite different. Griffon let him choose not to be called a robot, and now Ryan was letting him decide if he wanted new information installed. Most owners would plug Gavin in without hesitation.

His old owner would have.

Gavin shook his head to clear the thought. Ryan must have taken it the wrong way, backing up a step and holding a hand up. “Okay, we don't have to install it, I thought--”

“No,” Gavin said, correcting him quickly, “I wasn't shaking my head at that, I was thinking something else. Um.” He looked at the data pack again, with its colorful yellow and green labels, and the promises of teaching the desired robot the basics of working with mechanics and repair. It wouldn't give him everything for this shop, with the eclectic nature of their work, but it was a start. Learning everything himself would take almost as long as a human, as he worked to retain the information while his body kept up with everything else in his environment. Dealing with the people, keeping himself at a decent temperature, learning about new tools, and listening to commands given to him, would all slow his processing down. Learning some basics right off the bat would help.

“I want it,” Gavin said, and paused. “I think the data pack would help. At least then I can pay you back for all this.” He made a wide gesture to his whole body.

Ryan gave him a soft smile, relaxing. “You don't have to pay anything back, Gavin, but if you want to, I agree the data package would be a good start. Can you install it yourself, or do you need me to help?”

“You,” Gavin said, though it annoyed him to admit it. “I can't install it myself.”

“Okay.” Ryan hefted the box in his hand, and moved across the room.

The front of the room had a vastly different layout from the back. The back had its long counter that surrounded the walls, with a wooden top for working and a cork board attached above them, nails stuck in to hang for easy access. In the middle of it were the two tables, one with a wood counter and the other with metal, spread out to allow more room for the group projects that were too small for the garage.

At the front was the table where Griffon handled transactions, over top a set of cupboards that held even _more_ tools. The faces of the cupboards were painted with Griffon's logo, the mythic creature the shop was named for with swirling letters that made up the name. On the table, they had a couple computers, older models that were definitely used long before they ever came to Gryphon Repairs. One was next to the cash register. The other sat at the opposite end of the counter, and had a more advanced display.

Gavin knew it to be a panel for working with robots. The screen displayed their information when they were plugged in, giving all their details. Ryan used it after Gavin had been with him a couple days, but because he was British, the software was unfamiliar. He could pick apart bits and pieces, but his operating system wasn't set to the same standard that American ones used. Ryan had left the issue alone after unplugging him, saying that as long as Gavin's AI seemed to be working, it didn't matter to him.

Now, it would matter a little more. Ryan had to install this new program, and it might not work. Gavin stopped beside the set up, the main computer hub next to the counter, the monitor, and the extra display set on the counter that would show Ryan all his information. The monitor had a keyboard, but the display, more modern than anything in the entire building, was a touch screen that used holograms. Ryan turned it on and deftly moved through the projected menu, pushing images back and forth until he got to the control panel. “All right, let's get you set up.”

Gavin shifted to stand closer and turned around, lifting his shirt. The panel on his back provided simple access to his system, with multiple ports for plugs. Ryan pulled a couple out from the cupboards and put them in the computer hub before attaching them to Gavin, testing their hold. “Thanks, Gav. Hang on while I do this.”

There wasn't much of an option to do anything else, tied to the computer the way he was. Gavin felt the internal spins and clicks as his system registered being connected to a computer. He couldn't see the menu from where he was, turned around to let himself be plugged in, and he wasn't interested, either. He had little control over his programming in the past, and it was simple to let Ryan handle everything.

For a minute, it was quiet. Not silence, like his old house, where the inactivity rang through the open spaces, and to say you could hear a pin drop was barely an exaggeration. Rather, the room buzzed with the soothing sound of calm work. Caleb and Brandon had a jumble of metal on the back counter that Gavin couldn't easily discern, clacks and bangs echoing as they dragged pieces out and slipped others together, occasionally grabbing a tool from the wall. Kdin leaned back in his chair by his work space, enjoying the lack of tasks on his plate by tapping his pen and his foot in rhythm. Outside, Lindsay and Griffon were still fixing the bike, although another one had been added to the garage's workload by a different client. Roaring engines were typical, but at the moment, it was low conversation and the pacing of Griffon's heavy boots.

Gavin flexed his fingers as electric pulses transferred back and forth between his body and the computer, a light buzz and thrum that ran over the wires immediately next to the port, skittering up his spine to connect to his AI and send the information Ryan requested before he could blink. Gavin liked to imagine that if he could get drunk, it might feel similar to this, warm and pleased as he let the computer pull what it could from his system. That was the way it had been described to him, once.

“Ah, fuck.” Ryan fiddled with something, his motions frantic in Gavin's peripheral vision.

“What?” he asked, broken from his trance. “Is something wrong?”

“I can't read this,” he mumbled. Gavin turned carefully, trying not to jostle the wires in his back, and watched Ryan pull open a new menu, go back, and open it again. “The terms,” Ryan said, flicking through the options. “It's British, it's not the same as what we use. Hang on.”

Gavin bit his lip, fingers flexing as he watched Ryan open files and close them, running back and forth through the menus. “Can you install it, or . . .?”

“Yeah,” Ryan said, with a tone that said he'd run into this type of problem before. “I just have to figure out where the program files are from your hard drive. It's organized differently and it's a pain in the ass.”

Startled, Gavin turned to look at Ryan's face, drawing his brows together. He didn't swear often, but he wasn't conservative in his language. Still, the way he spoke made Gavin's shoulders hunch, the harsh tone biting the air between them. Ryan didn't seem to notice, eyes narrowed as he glanced between the holograms and the screen display itself, hands flying across both as he swept images out of the way and sorted through the numerous folders.

Rather than watch Ryan work himself into a frenzy, Gavin turned again, eyes closed, as Ryan tried to find the right place to store the new files. Eventually, the rapid fire pats and clicks of his fingers stopped, and he bent down, picking up the data pack box from where it sat on the floor by the computer hub. Gavin turned again to watch him open it, pulling out several cardboard pieces with no obvious purpose and chucking them on the floor. His dig through it yielded a plastic container, and in that, a memory card. Ryan sighed with relief and hurriedly plugged it into the computer, opening the new window that popped up.

“Is it working?”

“Mhm.” Ryan flashed him a brief, tired smile. “That robot on the manufacturing line I called said that British models have different software, and they weren't kidding. Let me sort through and see if the files copy over, okay?”

“Yeah.” Gavin stood straight again, wiggling slightly to test the cord's connection. “No problem.”

They must have worked, because Ryan sighed again, the taps of his fingers on the touch screen softer and less harried. “Hold still,” he told him, when Gavin started to turn again. Gavin could feel electricity pulsing in him again, the signal running up and down his spine as the computer transferred information. The tingling seemed to get stronger as time passed, running strong not just over the main connection over his spine, but across all his limbs. He could practically taste it on his tongue, despite lacking a sense of taste, and Gavin could swear he saw the electricity under his closed lids. It skittered underneath his skin and made him shiver. Gavin barely resisted the urge to pull from the cords, to brush off the buzzing and pace until all remnants of the feelings faded. This wasn't the warm pleasantness of before. The sensation spun through his brain and coiled in his chest, ready to burst.

Gavin snapped, breaking the sudden trance as his eyes flew open, and his AI seemed to kick into overdrive. The beat of his insides thrumming sounded as loud as thunder, ringing in his ears. He had to fight not to tell Ryan to unplug him, to stop the installation before he got lost in the process of files copying to his system.

But it settled, vanishing almost as suddenly as it came on. Gavin tensed, and could feel the pump in his cooling system circulating the fresh water Ryan must have put in. His nerves strained for a second before returning to their default state of relaxed but aware. He felt the distinct pull of Ryan taking the cords out, and sliding the port covers back into place from where they had been moved. He turned, and saw him shutting the computer's display down and taking the cords from the hub. “Did it work?” he asked, unable to keep silent while Ryan put the supplies away.

His lips quirked up. “It should have, although I can't be entirely sure. We can test it, though.”

“How?” Gavin asked quickly, unable to sort through his AI himself without knowing what he was looking for.

Letting out a small laugh, Ryan said, “Bring me a size 2 Philips head screwdriver from the back wall, if you could.”

There wasn't a pause, or a lull, where Gavin thought about what Ryan asked and processed the new information to compare it to what he already knew. He just _did_ , and it was simple to nod and walk to the back, eyes scanning over the walls until they found a set of screwdrivers hanging in a row. He looked at them a moment, and pulled the Philips head off, turning back to face the front and hold it up. The other employees were watching him curiously, but Gavin only felt a sense of satisfaction as Ryan walked up to him and plucked the tool from his hands, flipping it around to check the type.

“Excellent,” he said, smiling. Gavin's chest swelled with pride. “Looks like it worked. You have some basic knowledge of tools, and if you want, you can help around while we wait for the rest of your parts to come in. We'd appreciate a robot-- er.” Ryan coughed falsely into his elbow to cover his mistake. “We'd like having an _automaton_ around the place to help us.”

Gavin nodded, eyes falling to the floor as Ryan flashed a bright smile. “I'm glad to help. Like I said, I don't want to owe anyone.”

Ryan laughed at him, and Gavin whipped his head up to look at him. He was giggling, teeth peeking out between his lips, his smile smaller but somehow brighter than before. “What's so funny?” Gavin said, taking on the icy tone he did when Ryan upset him.

“Nothing, nothing,” Ryan assured him. “I'm just glad that you work the way you should. It's a load off my chest. So, listen.” Ryan eyed the wall behind them, gaze narrowing as he zeroed in on something. “Could you get me a blowtorch?”

The request wasn't a difficult one, and easily ignored if Gavin didn't feel like doing it. But the hopeful sparkle in Ryan's eyes, combined with that smirk and the knowledge that Gavin _could_ do it, that he didn't have to look it up or be told exactly what to do, sprouted in his chest and crawled through his limbs, excitement building in moments as he thought about being useful without sacrificing his dignity. “Okay,” he said, before he could register what he was saying, and turned to scour the walls and counters for what Ryan wanted.  
There was more giggling, from Ryan and the others in the room, but Gavin ignored them as he picked up the tool, heavy in his hands. The cold surface of it seeped through his temperature sensors. He could feel the eyes of the others on him, waiting to see what he would do, if he would listen, or brush Ryan off as he'd been doing since he first came. All the eyes on him made his hands clench, and his brows furrow. No one paid attention to him; he was always in the background, never looked at or talked about, at least before he left home. Now, all these people in the shop were looking at him, talking about him. They were _interested_ , for no reason other than Gavin was who he was. It made shivers skitter down his spine, the nervous tick manufacturers had given him to alert any owners of when his AI couldn't handle something properly. He tried to stifle the reaction as he turned back to Ryan.

He brought the torch over quickly and dropped it when Ryan held out his hands. He smirked when Ryan hefted it, surprised by the weight. “Is that good?”

“Ah,” Ryan shifted it to hold the tool properly. “Yeah, thanks.” He smiled again, his expression like sunshine in the fluorescent lit room. “This is going to be great, Gavin. We'll have an actual automaton to work with.”

Gavin turned away, fingers flexing without anything to occupy them. He swallowed, unnecessary for anything except stalling. “Me too,” he admitted, lifting his gaze carefully to meet Ryan's. “I think it'll be good, too.”

 

* * *

 

Establishing a rhythm took some time. Between the work schedule-- which busied the employees as they padded back and forth from the shop and the garage and dealt with the clients coming in and out-- and Gavin adjusting to his new tasks-- listening to Ryan and taking other orders thrown at him with enough obedience to get it done and enough wariness to let it be shown that his trust wasn't completely earned-- getting into a definitive schedule didn't happen for a long time. Sometimes Gavin helped Ryan, and other times he stayed in the garage with Griffon, and still other times Caleb or Kdin pulled him into smaller tasks to hold tools and retrieve pieces.

Lindsay was the most aggressive, as she was before. Gavin avoided her when he could, not because he didn't like her, but because he couldn't handle the way she insisted on touching him as she talked. She would take his shoulder, or pat his head, or press her hand on the small of his back, just over the buttons that might shut him down if she pushed the wrong one. Gavin didn't dare verbally complain. He learned long ago that saying the wrong thing could get him in trouble, and he already pushed his luck with Ryan. The man was sun in a bottle and didn't seem to mind enough to voice his opinion when Gavin got sullen. Lindsay, however, pouted and griped at his poor attitudes, and Gavin favored stepping away from her touch and avoiding her rather than telling her the contact wasn't appreciated.

It wasn't the best situation. He could deal with it, though.

Caleb was gentle, thankfully. He spoke quietly and gave Gavin his space. Kdin didn't seem to care past admiring Gavin's systems, and asked him to fetch things or clean up just so he could watch. Brandon had no opinion, taking work over communicating with Gavin, although he peeked at his interactions with Ryan from time to time. And Griffon did as she had before, respecting Gavin and treating him almost the same as she did her employees. She spoke to him with the same no nonsense manner, and didn't constantly ask if he was okay with certain tasks the way Ryan did. She simply asked for his help, and if he couldn't do it, from lack of knowledge or physical ability, she shrugged and did it herself while explaining her work. The explanations went over his head more often than not, but not being talked down to was a nice change.

The rhythm in the shop helped Gavin establish a rhythm at home. He kept the same schedule, going home with Ryan after work finished and spending a majority of his time in the living room, while Ryan wound down. When Ryan wasn't cooking, Gavin felt tempted to linger in the kitchen, and sometimes spent as much as an hour straightening appliances and wiping down the counters, just to have something to do. He couldn't cook, and cleaning furthered his goal of paying Ryan back. If he did it for too long, though, Ryan pulled him from the room with words of being lonely and wanting Gavin to join him for a movie. Gavin pouted at the thought of being forced to be close, but after constantly being shoved off for touching Gavin on the head or shoulder, Ryan had finally gotten the message, and didn't approach him unless it was necessary. The nights together in the living room were restricted to the distance Gavin got sitting at the other end of the couch or, if he was particularly frustrated with being stuck around Ryan, the extra chair. After the first week, though, sitting by himself felt silly, and Gavin's permanent spot became the left of the couch, while Ryan sat on the right.

It had been a little more than a week since Gavin got his first repairs done. He had habits at home, and habits at work, and they all revolved around being helpful without being close. He never hovered, and moved on from one person to the next when his tasks were done. Griffon tolerated it the least, coming up with inane tasks to make Gavin spend time with her, but it didn't work as well when Gavin hurried to get them done until she ran out of excuses. Then Griffon would dismiss him with a smile and a wave as he left the garage, almost always walking in Ryan's direction.

Today, however, he was stationed with Lindsay, holding a tool box open so she could pick and choose what she wanted. She was bent over her space on the counter, fiddling as she hummed to herself along with the song on the radio. “Here,” she said, picking up her tweezers and placing them in the box, pulling out wire strippers. Gavin blinked at her, and nodded. Lindsay didn't care as much if he spoke, but a lack of acknowledgment always made her brows furrow.

“How's it going over here?”

Both of them turned to see Ryan, wiping his hands clean on his shirt. “Are you getting things done?”

He tended to ask that a lot, as if he were afraid Gavin would break in the middle of work. “I'm fine,” he said, and hefted the box up, because Ryan was obviously asking about him rather than what Lindsay had in her hands. “Helping Lindsay,” he added.

“He's great.” Lindsay stood up straight, hands on her hips, and grinned. She raised a hand and tapped Gavin lightly on the back, sticking her tongue out when he squirmed away. “Best decision ever, to make him work for us. He's like a helper monkey.”

Ryan frowned, his lips twisted in disbelief. “He's a bit better than a monkey, Lindsay. He's an automaton.”

Automaton. Gavin flexed his fingers around the box he held, strangely tense at hearing that word. Ryan made an effort to use it after his request, and though he still slipped, he was pretty good about it. It made Gavin want to curl into himself, in a good way, to know Ryan considered his opinion important and that he had a label that wasn't a blanket statement for all the different robots. He had free will, and it was acknowledged.

Lindsay laughed at Ryan's words. “I know, I know. You're awesome, Gavin.” She didn't pat him again, but tilted her head to look at him. Gavin shrugged his shoulders, unsure of how to respond. Smiling and laughing around humans didn't come naturally, at least with people he still considered strangers. Or maybe acquaintances, at this point. Same difference.

“You know,” Lindsay continued, brushing her hair from her face, “a couple people asked about him. He's so human-like, a lot of people don't believe he's a robot until they see the bar code on his neck or some of the places where his joints connect.” At a stern look from Ryan, she realized her mistake. “Automaton, right,” she said, with a nod. “Anyway, the clients think he's human, or at least he looks that way from a distance. You're really high quality, aren't you, Gavin?”

“Uh, yeah.” Gavin put the tool box down, his arms strained slightly under the constant weight. “I'm more expensive than a lot of artificial life.”

“I figured.” Ryan gave him that soft, warm look he did when he was talking about Gavin's build and operations. He liked to know how Gavin worked, though he failed at squirreling information from him more often than not. He tried to surprise Gavin by asking him questions while they were in the living room, quiet and calm so Gavin didn't think anything was up until he processed what he meant. Gavin had held his lips tight thus far, not giving up anything past vague details about what happened to him outside, and only then so Ryan could better fix him.

“So what kind are you?” Lindsay sidled closer, inspecting Gavin's skin. He leaned away, but she persisted, until their faces were only a few inches apart. “You're not labor, right? Are you academic? Or a personal model? I could believe personal, maybe custom. I've never seen one like you on the market, but then you're also British.” She moved as she babbled, stepping into Gavin's space to look over his body.

Gavin took a step back, pursing his lips for a moment to let her know what he thought of her invasive maneuvers. “I'm a personal model.”

“What? You never told me that.” Ryan looked put out, brows drawn close together.

Realizing his faux pas, Gavin turned away. “It didn't seem important.”

“Not important? It helps me know how to fix you!”

Gavin flinched at the outburst, looking up at Ryan from under his eye lashes. “Please don't yell,” he said, in as placating a tone as he could muster. “I'm the same as an academic model, nearly, and you _knew_ I wasn't for labor.”

Ryan opened his mouth, and stopped, expression softening. His shoulders slumped and he nodded. “Yeah, I guess. I'm just a little . . . bothered, that you told Lindsay right away.”

“What, like you have special privilege?” Gavin stood up straighter and looked at Ryan indignantly. “I don't have to tell you _anything_.”

“No, no, I know.” Ryan was quick to wave his hands in a 'calm down' gesture, giving a fake smile that lacked his usual warmth. “I just like knowing about you, Gav. I told you that. You're interesting.”

Gavin didn't respond, turning his eyes back on the tool box. “Do you need anything?” he asked, his voice kinder than before as he looked up again. Ryan relaxed at his words, and shook his head. Gavin took that as his cue to ignore him, and opened the box again. “Lindsay, were you still working?”

“Oh, yeah.” Lindsay blinked, and glanced between them. “Sorry, Rye. This one's mine for a while.” She tried to make it sound like a joke, but their interaction left the air sour, and it came off stilted. Lindsay chewed her lip, staring at Ryan until he seemed to get the message.

“Okay,” he said, face falling from its false brightness. “I'll let you know if I need you for anything, Gavin. Good luck.” He waved, and turned back to his own station on the other side of the room.

Lindsay watched him go, and spun around, plastering on a grin. “Let's finish it, Gav.”

“Mm.” Gavin nodded and held up the box, once again a tool jockey as she pulled out the bits she needed and bent over her space on the counter.

As they finished, Gavin couldn't help looking at Ryan, back at his designated work space. His hair was falling in his face, and he constantly had to brush it back as he fiddled, sometimes shoving his work away in order to run his fingers through his hair. Gavin turned back when he thought Ryan was looking, fingers tight on the box and toes digging into his worn shoes. He wasn't staring; he _wasn't_. And yet he kept thinking about Ryan, and how much the man wanted to know about him despite how little Gavin was willing to give up.

His past was closed. Gavin shut that door the second he left home to wander the streets for weeks on end. He wouldn't think about it, and he wouldn't talk about it, whatever Ryan wanted. Admitting he was a personal model was a slip; Lindsay never asked him questions like that, and he let it out without thinking about it. He couldn't take it back now, and it hurt Ryan that Gavin would admit it to Lindsay and not him.

It hardly mattered, if it hurt him. Gavin didn't belong to Ryan and he wasn't here to please him. He would pay off his debt and be on his way to wherever he could live without listening to human orders. That place might not exist, but Gavin would settle for nothing less. It just made it awkward, for Ryan to think Gavin was being open with anyone, when he clearly wasn't. His past would stay in the past, unless Ryan absolutely needed to know in order to fix him.

He hadn't lied, anyway. Gavin was a personal model made to function like an academic, but with more personality. It put more stress on his processors, but his old owner went all out to keep his maintenance up and be sure Gavin functioned correctly. At least, he had for a while. Now Gavin seemed to heat up anytime his emotions skyrocketed, and while fixing his cooling system had helped with that, it got bad if he felt threatened enough. Ryan's constant touches had sent him into hyper awareness more often than not, and he found himself having to shut down at night more often in order to compensate. It meant he had less time to kill at Ryan's house, but he didn't like the vulnerable feeling he got, having to leave his AI off for a few hours every night.

The sooner he got fixed and left Ryan, the better. His AI would calm down when he wasn't around humans, and he could do what he pleased without listening to them. He had several parts fixed now; his vision, his water cooling system, and his limbs, which Ryan had put the permanent plastic molding over to replace the temporary stuff he used the first night. It made his skin look flawless, and Gavin looked good on the outside. Soon enough the rest of his internal damage would be fixed. At this point, it was mostly wiring and a few parts that weren't completely broken but could use replacement. After that, he would be back to normal, and when Griffon assured him he had worked enough to pay back his debt, he could leave.

Gavin growled at the way his hands trembled at the thought of leaving, setting the box down to comb them through his hair and settle the fan now whirring inside him to cool down his rising temperature. His body was working too hard again, worked up at every unpleasant thought. Gavin's hands trailed down from his head to rub at his neck, assessing the pulse of his cooling system.

Lindsay stopped in her work and peeked at Gavin. “Hey, are you okay?”

“Fine,” Gavin muttered, shaking his head.

Rolling her eyes, Lindsay raised a hand and slapped him on the back. It startled a squeak from Gavin, and she laughed, saying, “Stop being shy! You've been here long enough. Speak up and tell me when you've been working too long. I don't mind letting you take breaks.”

He opened his mouth to retort, but when Gavin lifted his head to look at her, Lindsay was still giggling, her smile curling beautifully across her cheeks. Gavin stopped at the sight of her, hands falling to his sides. “Ah,” he stuttered, “o-okay, I will.” Her giggles were infectious, like the sweetest poison, and Gavin let his own lips quirk up despite himself. These were humans, and he couldn't trust them, but laughing with them didn't seem so bad. Especially when Lindsay smiled like that.

Thoughts shaken and mood restored, Gavin hung around Lindsay the rest of the day. She didn't always need him, but Griffon was wrapped up in her work, and Ryan looked chastised from pressing Gavin too hard. The other three boys were already working together, and that left Gavin trailing after as Lindsay moved between her station and the back room, pulling projects off the shelf or tossing parts they no longer needed. After lunch she asked Gavin to do some organizing, but an hour later he had wandered out of the room with the box he was sorting through and plonked himself in a stool beside her to ask about where everything should go. He ended up staying there, separating metal and plastic into piles while Lindsay hummed to the radio and swung her hips. She couldn't resist nudging Gavin whenever she got up, but he flinched less as he got used to it.

The day was nearly over when Gavin looked up from his now significantly less heavy storage box, the items they didn't need placed into a careful pile to be scrapped later. He brought it to the back room and set it on a shelf, and when he turned around, he saw Ryan poking his head in.

“Oh, uh.” Ryan stepped in the doorway fully, and gave a shy smile. “Do you want to head home?”

“Sure.” Gavin shrugged, scuffing one shoes across the floor. He couldn't help pointing out the obvious. “You look nervous.”

Ryan froze, and shook his head. “I am. I'm honestly still worried about upsetting you. I didn't mean to pry, Gavin. I hope you know that.”

Gavin ducked his head, nostrils flaring as he sucked in a breath, trying to hurry the process of his internal fan beating in a rhythm as his AI took in the sudden flood of emotions and sorted through them. “I know,” he said quickly. “I didn't mean to tell Lindsay, it kind of slipped out. My life . . . my past is over. I don't want to talk about it.”

Ryan nodded, stepping back as Gavin walked out of the room. He stayed behind him, grabbing his coat and slipping his glasses off while Gavin waited for him. He only wore the lenses while at work, to better see what he was doing, and part of Gavin was glad when he took them off. He looked much better without them. He averted his gaze, only looking back when Ryan opened the door.

“Shall we go?” he said, and gestured for Gavin to walk out. He took the invitation, waving briefly to Lindsay. “I'm leaving!” Ryan announced to the room, and got a chorus of goodbyes before he shut the side door.

The city heat hit them both immediately, the rain of their first night long gone. They hurried to Ryan's car, Gavin slipping in the back as usual. Ryan paused, like he always did, near the front, as if he thought Gavin would ask to sit up front with him. Gavin could tell it was what he hoped for, with the way his hand trailed over the handle of the passenger door before he walked to the other side and got in. Gavin laid his head back and waited for the AC in the car to turn on, glad to have an outside source to help keep him cool. If he had to constantly rely on his own body, he'd have overheated long before now.

“Why don't you ever sit up front?” Ryan asked it casually, as he turned down the road he last took to go to the grocery store. Gavin had noticed his supplies getting low, even with the advice he gave him last time. Gavin curled up tight in the seat, fully prepared to wait out the shopping trip.

“I don't want to,” he said simply, in reply, keeping his gaze on the world beyond the window. People and buildings flashed by as Ryan wove through the end of the day traffic. He ran the pads of his fingers over the car door, thumbing the rough plastic sides.

“But why?” Ryan turned to look over his seat briefly, quickly returning his eyes to the road. “It's got to be lonely back there, and you said yourself you don't like being alone.”

Gavin grit his teeth. Explaining his preference for distance would delve into subjects he didn't want to touch. “It's got to do with my old owner, okay?” He lifted his head to look at Ryan in the rear view mirror. “I told you, my past is done.”

Ryan went tense, hands tight on the wheel. “Sorry,” he said, as they pulled into the parking lot of the grocery store. “I didn't know.”

Gavin recognized the hurt in his tone. Sitting up, he put on hand on the passenger seat and leaned forward, far enough from Ryan but close enough that he could twist in the front seat to look at Gavin with relative ease. “That sounded harsh,” he said, and paused. Ryan's eyes were wide and hopeful, like that look he got when he was talking to Gavin the first night.

He glanced away, and back, doing his best to meet that gaze without flinching. “I'm an automaton, and I get enough of being close to humans in the shop. I like this distance and I'd appreciate it if you didn't question it. Okay?” He used the most polite language he could think of, resting his cheek on the side of the seat. The cloth set off the sensors in the base of his facial hair follicles, lighting his mind with the sensation enough that he could focus on it, instead of whatever look Ryan was giving him.

“I've never really heard of automatons who don't like humans. But if it has anything to do with how you got hurt, I guess I can understand.” When Gavin looked up, Ryan was frowning, shoulders hunched slightly and nostrils flared. He schooled the expression into something neutral when he noticed Gavin staring. He smiled, the fake one he had given in the shop, and Gavin's AI whirled as he tried to think of ways to correct his error. He'd displeased a human, it was his job to make them happy and do what they said.

Squashing the thoughts before they got overwhelming, Gavin closed his eyes and scrunched them tightly, blocking out the world for the briefest moment. When he opened them again, Ryan had lost the fake smile in favor of curiosity. “I'm sorry,” Gavin said, before he could stop himself. “I know I'm not a typical robot. I'll get out of your hair when I can.”

“Hey, no.” Ryan brought a hand around the seat to pat Gavin's shoulder, drawing back when Gavin flinched. “I don't want you to leave right away. It's just . . . confusing. You don't act like the other robots I've seen. Maybe it's because you're a British model, maybe it's just you.” He shrugged, trying to shake off the discomfort and failing. Gavin could still read the tension in him, but kept his mouth shut on the subject.

“I'll try not to be so obvious.” Gavin leaned back, sitting up straight in the back seat. “Are you going to buy the same stuff again?” He tilted his head toward the grocery store, eager to get on a different train of thought.

“Hm? Oh, yeah.” Ryan turned and opened the door, stepping out of the car. He leaned his head back in and smiled at Gavin, though it was less forced this time. “Personally, Gavin, I wouldn't mind you sticking around, even if you need to sit in the back of my car every day. I wasn't sure about it, but having you work at the shop has been great. So, sorry. I'll try to be less invasive.”

“Ah, don't say that,” Gavin said with a sigh, leaning forward again to face Ryan properly. “It's not your fault, you didn't know. I'll have to be clearer, I guess.” Why he felt the need to explain himself, he wasn't sure. It wouldn't matter what Ryan thought of him, in the long run.

Ryan beamed, and let out a small laugh. “Well, thanks, then. I feel better. I'll see you in a few minutes, all right? We can watch a movie tonight after I make dinner.”

Shifting to sit back down, Gavin shrugged. Ryan knew he didn't pay attention to the movies he put on to try and engage him, encouraging him to do something fun even if he didn't speak to Ryan much. Their nights together were always quiet, movie or no. But even if he pouted at Gavin, or rolled the stiffness from his shoulders when he went to bed, looking more frustrated than he had when he got home from work, Ryan never let on that he was offended with the lack of interaction.

And he didn't do it now, nodding once before he stood and shut the car door, thankfully having parked in the shade to keep Gavin's temperature down. He locked the door and walked across the parking lot quickly. Though he shouldn't, Gavin moved to the other side of the back seat, watching Ryan walk away until he disappeared inside the building.

He hadn't planned on talking about why he stayed away from people, and he certainly hadn't meant to apologize for it. So how Ryan had managed to trigger his guilt was beyond him, and it left Gavin staring wistfully out the window as he waited for the human  --the human that most definitely wasn't his owner-- to return.

 


	5. awakened again

They'd been cooped up inside for too long.

Ryan sat in the living room, flipping through television channels, the warm morning air seeping through the walls and making him shift in his seat. The prediction for the weather was hot, high in the morning and expected to get worse as the day went on. Sitting around his house with its shitty air conditioning, doing nothing but watching television and trying to get Gavin to talk to him, wasn't appealing. Ryan couldn't recall the last time he spent a day outside, stuck as he was between work and taking care of his new automaton.

He was _bored_.

Looking to his left, Ryan caught Gavin slumping on the other side of the couch. He looked about as entertained as Ryan felt, chin in his hand as he stared out the window to the street outside. People walked up and down the street, out for weekend jobs or shopping. Ryan caught him staring out the window a lot lately, and furrowed his brow.

Two weeks with Gavin, and they never did something as simple as taking a walk together. He could fix that, though.

“Gavin?”

He turned from his trance, blinking rapidly at Ryan. “Yeah?”

Ryan stretched his arms, and stood, neck cracking as he rotated it. “I'm bored and I want to go outside. How do you feel about coming with me?” He had no plans about leaving Gavin by himself, knowing certain people that lived around him who wouldn't hesitate to steal him, but he asked to be polite.

Gavin perked up, though he tried to hide it. His constant attempts to remain stoic around Ryan were failing more by the day, and Ryan couldn't help letting a grin slip when he caught Gavin's flinch as he schooled his expression into something neutral. “That sounds good,” he said, and got up. He didn't have to stretch like Ryan, and walked to the door immediately.

Following, Ryan took a moment to eye Gavin's clothes. He'd borrowed a set from Ryan, and they were big on him. He knew a low income store a few blocks away they could stop at, if they needed to. It was limited, and most of the clothes were ill fitting or damaged, and the cost was higher than he liked. Ryan preferred the thrift store across town, but in a pinch the closer one would do. It would have shoes Gavin could use, that weren't falling apart at the seams. The extra expense wasn't ideal, but Gavin looked disheveled, standing by his door in an outfit that would be better off thrown away. Ryan could use a few newer things himself. Last time he shopped, it was winter.

With a rough plan in mind, Ryan held a finger up to Gavin to signal he needed a moment, and went to the kitchen. Breakfast consisted of toast with eggs, and he wanted something for the walk. He grabbed an energy bar from a box on the counter and slipped it in his pocket. When he came back, Gavin zeroed in on the motion as his hand slipped back out. “Grabbing a snack?” he asked, in that suspicious tone Gavin took whenever he thought Ryan wasn't eating well. For all he pretended not to care about Ryan, he took a personal offense to poor meals. Whoever his old owner was must have been a good cook, or Gavin might not care so much.

“Just an energy bar,” Ryan said, as he opened the front door and stepped out. The heat slammed into him, and Ryan stopped, taking deep breaths and processing the temperature. He had a thin t-shirt and jeans, and it still felt like too much. He considered going back in to change into shorts, but shrugged it off,waving for Gavin to follow before he turned and locked the door.

“I hope that's not your lunch,” Gavin said, eyeing his pocket and the obvious lump in it.

“I'll eat properly when we get back,” Ryan promised, putting his keys in his front pocket where they wouldn't be easily stolen. With a small wave, he motioned for Gavin to follow, and started down the street.

Ryan lived in a relatively crowded area. He was at the edge of the residential district, houses quickly turning to shops as they walked down the sidewalk, past others making their way home or into town. It was on the outskirts of Austin, with none of the bustling local shops that promised good business at better prices. Laundromats and grocery stores were most common, although Ryan knew of a few good places to shop at, when he had the money. The store they were walking to now was small, and almost never had good clothes in Ryan's size, but for Gavin they might have something. He didn't want to waste the time driving to the store he liked, and Gavin needed an outfit that wasn't falling apart.

Between houses and stores sitting in rented spaces, were dirt lots and alleys cramped with trees that grew naturally rather than being planted by someone, stray seeds that happened to grow well enough over siding and across roofs. The sparse leaves weren't enough coverage, and the sun beat down hard on them both. Ryan did his best to keep them in the shade despite the fact that there wasn't much of it. Gavin plodded along beside him, occasionally picking at the small of his back, no doubt trying to keep the dust and dirt that kicked up around their feet out of the small gaps in his system around the access panel embedded in his back. Gavin would have done better in a more temperate climate, with less heat and more cloud coverage, but they both did what they could in the Austin weather.

It was a long walk to the nearest clothing store. Ryan tried not to sigh when they got to it. Crushed between a kitschy tourist shop that sold heaps of Mexican memorabilia, and a duplex that housed two families Ryan occasionally saw coming in and out, the store had a small selection and too high prices. He yanked the door open and ushered Gavin inside, grateful at least for the lack of dust and the air conditioning blasting from the vents in the ceiling.

“What are we doing here?” Gavin asked, shaking himself a little as his body adjusted to the sudden temperature change.

“We're buying clothes for you.” Ryan walked to the back of the store, to the men's section, and started digging through the shirts to find something suitable. Two or three would serve Gavin well, considering he didn't need to wash them as often, and Ryan could use a new one himself to mix into his wardrobe. Gavin stood beside him, gaze flicking between Ryan and the other people in the store.

“I don't need clothes,” he said, after a minute. Ryan already had a loose t-shirt in hand, and was browsing through the polo shirts. “I'm just a robot-- er, automaton. I can do well with one outfit.”

“You could use at least two,” Ryan said, taking out a shirt and shoving them at Gavin. “One to wear while the other gets washed. And an extra wouldn't kill you, but we'll hold off unless you see something you like. Come on, you need pants, too.”

Ryan barely noticed Gavin stop, but he followed again quickly, and Ryan didn't concern himself with whatever made him pause. He found a couple pairs of jeans that looked like they would fit, one of them rather small but listed in what he guessed was Gavin's size. It wouldn't hurt to try them both, and he stacked them over the shirts Gavin folded across one arm. He snagged a pair of jeans for himself, and took a t-shirt from another rack as they passed to find the shoes.

Thankfully Ryan's pair were holding up well, despite the wear and tear from the shop. Gavin's, however, were an old pair of Ryan's that had fallen apart long ago, with multiple holes and tears. Ryan took one look at them, let out a sigh, and skimmed his hands over the rack of old sneakers they had on display.

“Ryan,” Gavin said, shuffling from one foot to the other. “You don't have to, I have enough.”

“You need better shoes,” Ryan said, taking one of a pair of tennis shoes and looking it over.

“I'm not human, I don't--”

“Gavin, I'm getting you decent clothes! I won't have you taking hand-me-downs and not saying anything just because you're artificial!” Ryan turned with a glare, hands tight around the shoe he still held. Gavin jumped at the harsh tone, taking a step back. Ryan's expression softened when he saw him, and he opened his mouth to apologize.

That was when he saw the people staring.

Around them, almost all of the people in the store were looking at them. Ryan went red in the face, prepared to announce an apology for raising his voice, when he saw what their eyes were actually drawn to; not him, but Gavin.

At least seven or eight people, all looking at him, tracking his movement as Gavin shifted and stepped closer to Ryan again. His hands were tight against his stomach, still clutching his clothes, and when he looked at Ryan again his eyes were wide, meeting him head on instead of the indirect stares at his face Ryan had become accustomed to.

Gavin was looking him in the eye, and he was scared.

Ryan hurried to close the gap between them and tuck a hand over Gavin's back, ignoring the way he tried to squirm from the touch. “Are you uncomfortable?” he asked, and tilted his head toward the crowd that had decided privacy didn't matter.

Gavin didn't answer, but ducked his head and, surprising Ryan again, drawing near his body to push his face into the base of his neck. “They're staring at me,” he said, after a moment. “Did I do something wrong?”

“No, no, of course not.” They just weren't used to seeing one of the most expensive pieces of equipment in a store like this. Ryan hadn't thought of that ahead of time, but now it made perfect sense. Most owners didn't bring their robots out, leaving them in the safety of their homes, and the ones that _did_ take them along for walks and trips wouldn't shop in this kind of neighborhood. People who could afford robots and the risk of taking them out in public were the kind who could shop in the expensive districts, spending money left and right on designer clothes and fancy electronic toys. The people in here probably hadn't even seen a robot in person.

That didn't make the stares any more comforting. “Come on,” he said quietly, and pushed Gavin back. He kept a hand on his shoulder, grabbing the shoes he'd been looking at and leading them toward the changing rooms. Urging Gavin into one of them, Ryan handed over the shoes and waited until Gavin had put his items down on the shelf before closing the door. “Try everything on,” he told him, raising his chin so his voice would carry over the partition. “Let me know if anything is too loose or tight, and we'll find something else, and then we can leave, okay?”

Gavin let out a tentative, “Sounds good,” and Ryan heard fabric shuffling. Satisfied, he picked out his own changing room and quickly shucked off his shirt, trying on what he picked up. They weren't a perfect fit, but it was hard to find cheap shirts that fit his broad shoulders without hanging off his hips. The work in the shop might be good exercise, heaving metal around all day, but the clothes he bought were straight edged and flowing, not built for a buffer figure. Ryan tucked the sub par choices over his arm and left the little room, waiting patiently outside Gavin's for him to reemerge.

When he did, he held up the clothes and shoes with a shrug. “They're all fine,” he said, folding the clothes over and holding them against his chest. Ryan raised a brow, unsure if Gavin was avoiding a fuss after being gawked at. Gavin frowned, and said, “I'm not lying, they fit fine. Stop worrying over every little thing.”

The bite was enough to convince Ryan that Gavin was at least acting normal, and he lead the way to the counter to pay. It was higher than he liked, and he frowned as he drew out two fifties from his wallet. It would be better than seeing Gavin in rags, though, and he comforted himself with the thought as they left, stopping on the sidewalk in front of the door.

“Well,” Ryan said, drawing the word out around his lips. “I don't feel quite like going home yet. Do you mind if we wander some more?”

Gavin startled at being asked, eyes narrowing briefly before he shrugged. “It's not like I have anything better to do.”

The answer made his heart deflate a little. Ryan tried to put on a smile. “It'll be fun, I promise. Downtown isn't exactly close, but if we walk a while we can see some nicer neighborhoods. It won't be so dusty once we get out of this area.”

The promise seemed to encourage him, and Gavin nodded, following a little quicker than he had before as Ryan led them down the street. He kept up well, and it settled Ryan to see him cheer up some. Between working at the shop and avoiding him as best he could at home, Ryan didn't have many chances to spend time with Gavin. Outside, it felt less cramped than his home, and there was less pressure to put on conversation. He left the silence carry as they walked, and watched Gavin from the corner of his eye. The noises and people around them clearly caught his attention, even if he pretended not to care most of the time. Ryan wondered briefly if he'd been outside a lot in whatever life he had before stumbling into Gryphon Repairs.

The shops got nicer as they walked, the outskirts of the neighborhood Ryan lived in bleeding into the busier downtown district. Crowded low level apartments turned into banks and hotels, and the local shops got nicer and more specialized, rather than being filled with cheesy Austin trinkets that people sold to tourists when they couldn't get the money for any other type of business. It made Ryan wish he lived closer to the main city, to properly experience Austin's motto , 'Keep Austin Weird.'

Gavin trailed beside him, eyes flicking back and forth across the streets. They passed some restaurants and shops, and he stopped briefly to glance at the windows, picking up his feet when Ryan kept going. Ryan would stop with him, but if they were going to window shop, he had a street in mind, one he lived on before his student loans really got to his financial situation.

“This place is the best for walking around,” he said when they reached it, smiling at the familiar signs over the shops. “I like this area, it's pretty calm and they have good products to sell. I come here when I get sick of being stuck in my house all the time.”

“Stuck?” Gavin asked, even as he looked upwards to read the signs they passed.

“Not stuck, I guess. But I feel stuck. I don't go out with friends very often, and there's only so much time I can spend home alone.” If he were honest, Ryan couldn't even remember the last time he went to a bar. It might have been last month, one of his pals had a birthday and Ryan was invited to tag along, but the date of the event escaped him, and there was no way to recall whether it had been all that fun because someone his friend knew had bought them all three rounds of drinks.

Around the next week, he'd found Gavin, and then his home life got somewhat consumed.

Learning about him was fun, though, so Ryan didn't complain. He sniggered when Gavin pressed a hand to the glass window of one shop, eyeing the cooking utensils inside. No wonder he would recognize those. “Do you want to go in?” Ryan asked.

Gavin jumped, like he'd forgotten Ryan was even there. “Um, no,” he said, glancing back at the display of pots and pans. “You wouldn't buy anything, so what's the point?”

Ryan huffed indignantly at the accusation, even if it was true. “You don't know that.”

Gavin rolled his eyes and kept walking, hands in his pockets. Ryan glanced once at the store, and the products inside. Gavin didn't show much passion for anything except food and cooking, and he was stuck living with a person who could barely afford groceries on certain weeks. Ryan touched the glass window briefly, fingers lingering on the hot glass baking in the sun, before he turned and caught up with Gavin.

Despite Ryan's urging, Gavin shook his head when asked if he wanted to go in the stores they passed. Ryan dragged him in a couple, and the people here were more used to robots, letting Gavin meander about without feeling everyone's eyes on him. Once inside, he was happy to browse the selections of the quaint places Ryan picked, but continued to shake his head when asked to pick a direction. Ryan gave up eventually, letting them wander down the street without much aim besides continuing straight.

A couple blocks down, a sign caught Ryan's eye, and he stopped. Gavin halted after a few paces, catching sight of Ryan staring, and turned back. Ryan grinned at him, unable to keep his excitement at bay. “Let's go in,” he said, not offering Gavin the choice to turn it down before he opened the door. Gavin caught it as it swung shut and closed it more gently. The bell above their heads rung as the door passed it both times, announcing their arrival to the woman at the counter.

“Oh, hello!” she said, putting down her magazine to smile at them. “Let me know if you need any help,” she said, and gestured to the store that opened up to the right of the counter.

Ryan nodded at her, already scanning the shelves.

They'd come into an electronics shop. Not a place for repair, like Griffon's, just a commercial store. There were laptops, phones, travel accessories, and more, lining the shelves and the racks at the center of the room. The gray carpet gave slightly under Ryan's feet, and the fluorescent lighting was harsher here than in the smaller family stores around town, but amidst the products around him, he didn't mind.

Ryan rarely got to shop at places like this, content with his laptop and wifi and the devices he got to work with on a daily basis. Without a lot to spend on luxuries, it was nice to stop by a shop and look over the new equipment. He fingered the price tag over a brand new computer. It had better RAM and graphics than the used one he'd bought a few months ago, but the price was twice as much as he'd paid then. Ryan gave a thoughtful whistle, glad to have Griffon to go to for good deals with the local sellers.

On the other side of the store, an entire shelf had blue tape lining the edges, and a sign over the top said 'Robotic Hardware, Software, and Accessories.' Data packages lined most of them, along with tools to enhance a robot's look or performance. New parts to change things like eye color and disguise body hair, shiny metal buttons to replace the ones in the control panel, extra wiring, distilled water for cooling systems, and more. Ryan's eyes went a little wide, and he walked over, letting his hands touch some of the packages as he looked them over. A data pack or two wouldn't be amiss for Gavin, but they were hundreds of dollars, for something Ryan could manually teach him. They'd been lucky enough to have the first one.

Speaking of. He turned, and saw Gavin, still at the store's entrance. No one else had come in, but he was blocking it entirely. Ryan waved a hand over. “Gavin, come here.”

He expected Gavin to either walk over or shake his head. What Ryan didn't expect was the way his hands suddenly wrung around each other, and how his head hung as he shook it rapidly. Gavin's body got tight, tense. “Gavin?” Ryan asked, hurrying over. “What's the matter now?”

“I don't like it here,” he said flatly, eyes flicking over the shelves on their left. “Can we go? There's nothing here for me anyway.”

“Sir?”

The clerk had come over, interrupting their conversation. They both looked at her, and she smiled, oblivious to what was happening. “Is there something you need? I assure you, we have many helpful accessories for your robot, from cosmetic to hardware. We don't see many personal models of his . . . caliber, but if we don't have what you need, we can order something.”

Gavin shuffled behind Ryan when she started speaking, keeping an inch between their bodies, but not much more. Ryan put a hand back, patting Gavin's hip at an awkward angle, and quirked an eyebrow toward the clerk. The pause in her words hadn't gone unnoticed. “No, thanks,” he said. “I was just poking around.”

“Okay, well, let me know if I can help. For such a cute little robot, it's worth every penny to keep him looking nice!” She smiled and turned to take her place behind the counter once more, picking up the book she'd been reading. Ryan watched her a moment, and glanced behind him at Gavin.

He was practically trembling, not quite shaking but curled into himself and glancing worriedly around the room, lingering on the clerk and jerking his gaze back to Ryan. “What's the matter?” Ryan asked again, quiet enough that the clerk wouldn't hear.

“Can we just go?” Gavin's voice was stronger than expected, and when Ryan nodded, he straightened himself out. Gavin smoothed his shirt and ruffled some of his hair, pulling on a neutral expression before he backed toward the door, waiting for Ryan to come with him.

Once outside, Ryan decided they'd had a long enough day. He spent more than he planned and the sun was rising quickly, the people around them fanning their faces and ducking into buildings to avoid the humid pressure thickening the air. Ryan tilted his head at Gavin, who nodded, and they began the long walk back the way they had come.

As they walked, Ryan played the event in the store back in his mind. It hadn't been quite the same as the clothing shop. Gavin had been nervous, clinging to him and fidgeting under the looks of everyone else, but he hadn't asked to leave. He'd bore with it while Ryan sorted out their purchases. But the electronics shop had him _terrified_ , more so when the clerk spoke to them. Ryan frowned, fingering the bags in his hands. They hadn't been in there to buy anything, but the way Gavin asked to leave spoke of something besides nervousness or distrust. He didn't like people, but he usually got surly as a defense mechanism. Being scared was something Ryan hadn't seen since their first night together, when Gavin didn't know that Ryan wouldn't hurt him.

How he might think the clerk would hurt him, Ryan had no idea. She seemed friendly enough, even if she eyed Gavin a little strangely. But Gavin's panic unsettled him, curling unpleasantly in his gut, and Ryan felt better getting them out of there no matter what.

Reaching out a careful hand, Ryan brushed his fingers over the back of Gavin's neck, the way he used to do for his friends when they had a rough day. Gavin jumped, whipping his head around to look at him, but didn't squirm back the way he usually did. Instead, he brought his own hand up and touched Ryan's fingers, soft plastic almost as warm as human skin. He let the touch linger a moment, before he flicked Ryan's hand away.

“Do you not like being touched?”

The question was simple, and Ryan couldn't believe he hadn't asked it before. Gavin constantly ran from his touch and kept a distance, having voluntarily gotten close only a couple times, and Ryan never thought to ask him his opinion on it. He assumed it had to do with whatever happened to Gavin before Ryan found him, that a robot-- an automaton-- wouldn't want to be close to humans, when they were programmed to want to help them as a default.

Gavin stumbled over his own feet, caught off guard. When he collected himself and they were walking at a normal pace again, he scrunched his eyebrows. “You're asking _now_?” he said. “You touch me all the bloody time! What's the point of asking?”

Ryan shrugged, face heating with his guilt. He looked at the sidewalk, watching his feet scuff the concrete. “I should have asked you before. I'm used to being touchy with my friends. And I think you being an automaton made me think it was okay.” The thought hadn't occurred to him before, but as he said it, Ryan realized it was true, and fresh shame flooded him. Gavin acted more human than other robots he'd met, if a little sheepish, and yet the simple fact of what he was made Ryan forget his manners.

And, well. He was an object, technically, but the way Gavin looked at him, wary yet hopeful, couldn't help reminding him of another person, someone who deserved respect. “Sorry,” Ryan said, shrugging. “It didn't really hit me until now.”

“No, I just.” Gavin looked away, staring ahead of them. The street was sparser now, the people around them unwilling to put up with the weather, and they didn't even have to pause to wait for traffic as they moved through a crosswalk. “Thanks for asking now, I guess.” Gavin shrugged. “And no, I don't really like being touched. Some artificial intelligence I am.”

“Hey, it's fine,” Ryan assured him quickly, waving a hand to dismiss the subject. “I'm glad you were honest with me.” Not that he was sure Gavin could lie, but still.

“Really?” Gavin looked up, eyes wide. “It's-- it's really okay?”

“Yeah, sure.” Ryan shrugged, noting Gavin's surprise with mild interest. “You don't need to be in contact with people to do what you're supposed to. I'll . . . try to keep it to a minimum.”

“All right.” Gavin looked at the ground as they walked. “Thanks.”

Walking home was slower than going out, Ryan moving sluggishly in the afternoon heat and Gavin matching his pace, but eventually they made it back. Ryan hurried to fish his key out and let them in the house, glad to see that nothing had happened while they were gone. He took their shopping bags and tucked them in the bedroom, leaving Gavin's new clothes on the top of his dresser to be easily fetched later. By now it was far past lunch, and his stomach was rumbling. Ryan had eaten his snack bar on the way back, but Gavin was right, it didn't make for a good meal.

“Hey,” he said, as he walked in the kitchen and pulled out ingredients for a grilled sandwich. Gavin was at one of the chairs by the tiny kitchen table, and he looked up when Ryan spoke. “I was thinking,” he continued, as he buttered a pan and tossed a couple pieces of bread on to heat them up, “that we could have a movie night tonight. Something fun and calm.”

Gavin shrugged. He never had much input on their activities other than how far he wanted to sit from Ryan. He'd been using the extra chair in the living room less, electing to sit on the couch with him, but he kept to one side most of the time. Besides that, Gavin never told Ryan what he wanted to do. “Any opinion?” Ryan prompted, taking the warmed bread and spreading cheese, chicken, and onions over each side and putting them together before setting them on the pan again. It sizzled and popped from the heat, and the smell made his stomach rumble.

“No,” Gavin answered simply.

“Oh, come on. At least help me decide what movie. Comedy? Action? Romance?”

The startled jolt from Gavin had Ryan raising his eyes from the pain. At the look he gave him, Gavin squirmed, and shook his head. “Not romance,” he said simply, tucking his arms into himself.

Nodding, Ryan flipped his sandwich, and plucked a plate from the cupboard. He pulled a glass out and filled it with water, and slid the sandwich onto a plate. He was missing one ingredient, though, and he looked at Gavin thoughtfully before opening the fridge. “Hey, Gavin?”

“Hm?”

“Wanna help me? I'm gonna make some popcorn for the movie, but I wanted some tomatoes for my sandwich. Can you slice it while I do the popcorn?”

There was a moment of silence, where Gavin blinked and looked between Ryan and the knife he now held, and he shifted on his seat. “I'm allowed?”

“Sure.” Ryan waved Gavin over, waiting until the automaton stood beside him before handing him the knife. “Do you know how?”

“Yeah,” Gavin answered slowly, moving to where Ryan had been standing with the knife poised carefully over the tomato. Ryan hummed at his response and moved around him to grab a bag of popcorn. He put it in the microwave and set the timer, watching Gavin carefully from the corner of his eye.

The automaton spent enough time with him in the kitchen that Ryan figured it was where he was most comfortable, and he never ceased trying to give him food advice. Gavin himself confirmed that he was a personal model, but Ryan had to wonder if he'd been tasked with cooking in the past. As he watched, Gavin took the knife, holding the tomato carefully at the edge with his other hand, and ran it through the top, slicing off the stem. After that, his movements were more certain, keeping one hand away with the other chopped even slices. He went slowly, but the cuts were clean and well spaced, thick enough but not so big that Ryan would have to work to chew through them. He cut up the entire tomato, taking his time, and hastily put the knife down when he was done. “There.”

The microwave beeped then, and Ryan took the popcorn from it and put it in a large bowl, coming over to check Gavin's work when he finished. Setting the bowl on the counter, he eyed the tomato thoughtfully, and picked up several slices. He put a few on his sandwich and pushed one in his mouth. “Mm, it's good,” he said, and smiled at Gavin, who ducked his head.

“Don't look at me like that,” he said. “I just sliced it.”

“Still, thanks.” Ryan moved to ruffle his hair, and stopped, drawing his hand back. Gavin had tensed at the movement, and relaxed when Ryan pulled away, but his eyebrows were furrowed. Ryan settled for smiling again before taking his sandwich and water glass. “Can you grab the popcorn?”

Ryan walked in the living room and set his food on the coffee table. Gavin followed, setting the popcorn down and perching on the arm of the couch, while Ryan took the left cushion. “Let's watch a comedy,” he said, getting up to open the cupboard beneath the television and rifle through the movies on the shelf. “This one's good,” he said, taking out a case and putting the disc in his movie player.

Gavin watched him, not saying anything as Ryan resumed his seat and picked up his sandwich. The ads started playing, running through the films that were popular the year Ryan bought the movie. He'd seen most of them, and let his mind wander until the main menu popped up. The movie, an action adventure, started loud, with gunshots and explosions, and Ryan hurried to turn the volume down.

A few minutes into the movie, Gavin moved. Ryan turned briefly to watch him slide down from the arm of the couch, onto the cushion. Ryan finished the last of his sandwich and grabbed the popcorn to munch on, eyes flicking between the screen and Gavin.

They'd had movie nights a couple times before, and it was usually the same. Gavin perched on the edge of the couch, slowly sliding closer as the night progressed, as he got more into the film and paid less attention to where he was sitting. Ryan let him get closer, trying not to be obvious about watching him.

Half an hour in, Gavin was close to Ryan on the cushion, and Ryan had downed the popcorn. “I'm going to make more,” he said, and Gavin nodded, but his eyes were on the movie. Smiling, Ryan got up and went to the kitchen, grabbing another bag of microwave popcorn to cook. When he returned, Gavin had his elbows on his knees and his chin on his hands, leaning forward with rapt attention. Ryan slid down next to him, closer than before, but Gavin didn't move away. Emboldened, Ryan leaned back and put one arm across the back of the couch.

“Do you like movies?” he asked, when there was a lull in the plot.

Gavin blinked, and shook his head, as if snapping from a trance. “Um, yeah. My-- I used to watch them.” Ryan didn't miss the correction, or the way Gavin looked at the floor before returning his gaze to the TV, but he chose not to comment on it. Almost anything relating to Gavin's life before Ryan found him were off limits subjects, and asking Gavin about it led to either silence or a fight.

It wasn't long before Ryan forgot about it. Gavin had leaned back again, fitting himself against the back of the couch and Ryan's arm without so much as a flinch. Ryan looked at him, taking in his face and the way his skin reflected the light from the TV. His hair was soft, softer than a human's even though the strands were slightly thicker, and it fell delicately over his forehead. Gavin was attractive, no doubt, as most robots were. They'd been built with human satisfaction in mind, and humans like attractive features. If Gavin were a personal model, that was even more incentive to make him look good. Personal models served like entertainment; they were meant to be companions for their owners, making good conversation and essentially acting as a friend that could also do tasks if you set them to it. They couldn't learn as fast as academic models, and they weren't strong like the labor robots, so without good looks, they didn't have much to offer outside the average computer.

But Ryan _had_ a computer, and a calm life that didn't require an extra hand, and friends he saw often enough not to need the extra company. By all rights, he shouldn't need Gavin. But he still hadn't reported him to the police, or even thought about letting the shop have him. Gavin said he would leave when he got fixed, and yet he kept talking to everyone at the shop, and with Ryan, instead of staying distant. He'd tried to, the first few days. After the first week, though, it became clear that Gavin liked interacting with people, and he didn't make a strong effort not to spend time with them.

Ryan turned away from the movie, staring at the wall as he lost himself in thought.

He liked Gavin, that much was clear. Despite his averse reaction to touching and his sour attitude whenever someone prodded too deeply into his past, Gavin was sweet. His smile barely lifted his lips, but his eyes got soft and as trusting as they could look with the cameras embedded inside whirring and spinning. He curled into himself when he was scared, and loud noises startled him, but he worked hard at the shop and loosened up when it was clear he was safe. Ryan would gladly be friends with him-- and hoped Gavin might already consider him a friend. No matter what he wanted, though, Gavin didn't belong to him. Ryan had no papers for him and he couldn't claim Gavin unless he reported him to the police as a lost robot and waited the obligatory month for him to be claimed. The law took stolen and lost robots seriously.

Gavin might decide to leave before then, so there wasn't much point in reporting until Ryan knew what he was doing. Gavin said he would leave once he was fixed. Ryan sincerely hoped he changed his mind, and that he could push for official ownership. He didn't _need_ a robot, or an automaton, but he certainly wanted to keep Gavin with him.

Turning back, Ryan jumped at the sight of Gavin watching him. Gavin looked away immediately, gluing his eyes to the TV, and Ryan let out a soft laugh. “I'm not being a good host of our movie night,” he said quietly, sitting up to sling his arm on the couch again and relax into the lumpy cushions.

“It's fine,” Gavin said, sitting up straighter. “To be honest, I've seen this already. I almost forgot, but I watched it a long time ago.”

“Oh?” Ryan glanced between the screen and Gavin. “Should I change it?”

Gavin shook his head, feet coming up to tuck underneath his body. “Nah, this is fine. I like this movie, anyway.” He leaned back again, shifting at the feeling of Ryan's arm pressing against his neck. To Ryan's surprise, rather than moving away, Gavin got closer, shifting until there was a few inches of space between them and their shoulders knocked as Gavin nudged into Ryan's loose embrace. “I used to cuddle like this a lot, when watching movies.”

Ryan nodded, not moving, until Gavin shifted again and tucked his head into the crook where his arm met his shoulder. Gavin moved slowly, as if assessing what he would do, but Ryan stayed still, and Gavin took that to mean it was fine. He pushed closer, until they were pressed together, Gavin's skin barely above room temperature where it brushed against Ryan's side. “Is this . . .?” Gavin didn't finish, peeking up from beneath his glasses to look at him.

Sliding his arm down to curl over Gavin's shoulders, tensing when Gavin flinched, and reassured when he didn't move away, Ryan pulled him closer. “This is fine,” he said, letting Gavin nudge carefully into his hold. When they were both comfortable, his attention turned back to the screen, where the movie had almost finished.

Gavin wasn't entirely relaxed. Whenever Ryan shifted, he jumped or shifted, glancing at Ryan and back to the TV. Ryan didn't do more than let his arm hang over Gavin, wondering what in the hell he was so tense about. He'd made it clear that he didn't like being touched, and that Gavin had willingly snuggled into him was surprising in and of itself. If he was worried, he could take the other end of the couch back. Gavin didn't move away, though, and Ryan settled for carefully not pressing to make the cuddling more than it was.

There wasn't more they _could_ do, in any case. It wasn't like Gavin was human, even if Ryan's interest in him had developed a bit past learning from the amazing piece of machinery in his house.

When the movie ended, Ryan took his arm back, standing and picking up the remains of his food. He could feel Gavin staring at him, and ignored it, taking the dishes to the sink to be washed. Gavin stayed in the living room while he cleaned and put them away, and was in the same spot when Ryan walked back in. He didn't bring any attention to what they'd done as he popped the movie from his entertainment set up, and put it in the case and back on the shelf. “Well,” he said, to break the silence that had settled for the latter half of the film, “I should go to bed. How do you feel about using the mattress tonight, hm?”

Gavin startled out of whatever trance he'd slipping into, and frowned. “I don't need the damn bed, I don't know why you insist on that. I'll have the couch like usual.”

The thought of taking the bed and sleeping immediately was tempting. But Ryan had caught Gavin in the night, sitting in resting mode rather than shutting down completely to put his processors at ease, and he worried that Gavin would run himself too long. Even with his near repaired body, Gavin tended to come close to overheating, especially when his emotions ran high. His skin got hot and his insides hummed too loud, both motorized fan and water cooling system working too hard. Ryan knew he hid it, like he hid almost everything about himself, but Gavin spent a majority of each day with him and he couldn't cover everything up.

A chance to shut down on the bed, rather than worrying over his ability to rest properly on the couch, would do him some good. “I insist,” Ryan said, dragging the blanket off the back of the couch, “because you don't shut down often enough. You need to let your system turn off once in a while. Keeping it on constantly isn't good for you.”

“I'm fine,” Gavin said, though with less conviction. “I can shut down on the couch.”

“But you don't,” Ryan said, and he nudged at Gavin's leg with his foot. Gavin huffed and moved to the side, rather than standing up. “Come on, Gav, I'm worried. Robots-- sorry, automatons-- can't handle staying on all the time.”

“Then I'll shut down tonight! It's not like I've been used for what I'm actually for, so I don't damn well need a bed to sleep in!”

Ryan froze. Gavin stopped talking, clamping a hand over his mouth. Silence rang through the room, the only noise from the ticking clock on the wall. Ryan tightened his hands in the blanket, winding some of the excess cloth around his hands as he blinked slowly at Gavin. He'd only mentioned his function a handful of times, and only to avoid the subject. And the way he was looking at Ryan, hands over his mouth and eyes wide, he hadn't meant to say anything now.

“I guess you wouldn't have been,” Ryan said finally, wrenching the words from his mouth. “I can't exactly use you if you don't tell me what you were designed for. But I still worry about you, Gavin. I'd feel better if you could shut down at least once in a while.”

The words bit harder than they should, and Gavin flinched. Ryan quickly dropped the blanket, sitting on the couch and taking his socks off. “I'll sleep here,” he said, his tone leaving no room for argument. “Take the bed and shut yourself down. And . . .” he stopped, tossing his socks under the coffee table to be picked up later. “Don't worry about whatever you're supposed to be for.” He lifted his head, and tried to smile at Gavin. “You do good work at the shop. You're almost repaired. That's all I really care about, okay?”

Gavin hesitated, and nodded. “Okay.”

“And Gavin?” Ryan reached out with one hand, holding it palm up. “I enjoyed spending time with you today. Just as friends, not . . . a person and an automaton.”

Eyeing the extended hand warily, Gavin reached out, and Ryan moved forward to touch their fingers together. He didn't move to hold hands with Gavin, merely letting their fingertips brush each other. It was something Ryan did with his mother as a child, touching hands without a significant hold, a reminder that the other person was there to offer comforting contact. Gavin stared at where their hands touched, until Ryan pulled back and let both arms rest on his lap. “I'm gonna brush my teeth,” he said, and stood. “Get to bed, Gavin. I'll see you in the morning.”

Ryan brushed his teeth, dressing down to boxers in the bathroom, and when he returned to the living room, Gavin was gone. Noticing the bedroom door was ajar, he peeked around the edge of the doorway and nudged it open another inch. He could see the end of the bed, and the sheets shoved off of it to the floor. Gavin did tend to pull them off when Ryan insisted he use the bed, as he had that first night Gavin spent in his house. Ryan wasn't sure what Gavin had against blankets, but at least he took the bed without any more arguing. Maybe he didn't need it. Ryan felt better if he used the bed once in a while, though, and the couch wasn't so bad if he didn't use it every night.

Not least of all, Ryan couldn't help but feel that if he could prove to Gavin that he didn't mean harm, that whatever happened to him in the past wasn't going to happen on Ryan's watch, he could stop worrying every other minute that Gavin would run away and get stolen by someone who _would_ hurt him. So he took the couch, assured that Gavin would have a night to let his body relax.

 


	6. slip a note under the door

Gavin thought it would take longer to fix his body. As it turned out, the repairs went much quicker than he could have ever anticipated.

On Monday Ryan got more parts, and put them in place. Gavin started walking faster, and it wasn't until Tuesday in the shop that Gavin realized he was jumping less, not startling as much. When fixing some of the broken wires in his internal system, his sensory processors had sped up, returning to their normal settings, and he was able to better tell when someone walked up to him or read their body language when they intended to touch him. He still preferred not to be touched, but when Ryan patted him on the head he didn't scramble away, merely shook him off with a stern reminder.

Ryan did his best to respect Gavin's boundaries, that much was clear. He hung back and hesitated before touching him, but the nature of Ryan's interactions couldn't be changed. With the other employees, he was touchy, and he always seemed to remember too late that Gavin didn't like it. But, at the same time, Gavin was getting more used to being around humans, and he found he didn't mind so much when Ryan showed praise with small brushes and pats. He hung closer to Ryan in the shop, eyeing his work curiously, practically hovering. Occasionally, if Gavin were in a good mood and Ryan smiled in just the right way, Gavin would let himself reach out and touch him, so light he was surprised Ryan noticed, to express his gratitude in more than words. He could feel himself not minding it as much, and it thrilled Gavin to know he was normal, and getting back to acting how he should.

On Wednesday came another package of repair parts, and on Thursday, extra wires to replace the last of the broken ones. They were smaller, the ones that fit in Gavin's neck through a slot even smaller and less noticeable than the panel at his lower back. It was hidden under the bar code stamped on the side, and for emergency use only. Ryan had opened it when Gavin first came in and reconnected a few jostled parts to correct Gavin's sight, but, as Ryan told him, some of the wires were snapped. He was almost completely fixed now, and the wires would be the last bit before Gavin could call himself good as new.

Once Gavin was fixed, he could decide to do whatever he liked. Ryan had spent the morning with Griffon and Lindsay, fixing a stubborn engine problem on the new bike in the garage, and then gone to Brandon to help with an old stereo a client brought in the afternoon before. Gavin looked between him and the new wires sitting in their shipping box, blinking slowly. He had no idea what was wrong with him, and what the wires would fix, but Ryan would know, and as soon as he finished dawdling around he could put them in.

After lunch, a sandwich with surprisingly good amounts of nutrition for a human, which Ryan ate at his work station, he finally stood and snatched up the plastic bag inside the box, which held the assortment of new wires he had to put in.

“Hop up,” Ryan said, patting the counter.

Gavin, who had been standing nearby, nodded dutifully and got on the counter. Ryan straightened out his clothes-- much better fitting than Ryan's hand me downs, and something else Gavin would have to pay him back for-- and held up the bag of little wires. “I'm going to fix the last bits that are broken, and then I'll watch you for the day to make sure you're doing all right. How does that sound?”

“Fine.” Gavin shrugged, but flashed a little smile. He'd grown in the habit of doing that, looking happy to assure Ryan he wasn't sulking. Ryan always seemed so frustrated when Gavin didn't express his happiness, and after their movie night, Gavin made an effort to put it out there more often. Ryan beamed right back at him, and set to work.

Gavin didn't need to be shut down for this, and he stared at the back wall while Ryan opened him up. He took off the small panel covered by his bar code, the only section of his skin with any sort of marks, and set it carefully on the counter. Griffon had made a comment in his first few days that Gavin should get more ink than that, and Gavin panicked because tattoo mods _were_ something humans could do. Griffon had had to assure him that he didn't belong to her and she had no intention of modifying him.

Ryan took his pliers and started moving things around, something Gavin couldn't feel due to lack of sensory input for his neck. His joints and some of the parts imitating muscle movement had pain receptors, so Gavin could let any potential owners know if he were broken, but issues originating from parts in his neck would be obvious as soon as they happened, and so he had no pain there. It still puzzled Gavin what exactly Ryan would be fixing, but then his processing hadn't been visibly broken until Ryan fixed it and Gavin realized that the entire world wasn't as startling as he thought it was. When he could process movements faster than a human brain, everything that shocked him before suddenly lost its frightening aspects.

Ryan moved one of the wires, and Gavin's vision went blank.

“Ah!” Gavin jolted, and Ryan cursed under his breath, putting a hand to Gavin's chest to keep him still. On second thought, the world wasn't blank, so much as a mess of shades that faded and blended together, light sources seeming to drift back and forth. Gavin blinked rapidly, trying to clear his vision.

“Shush, it's okay,” Ryan said, waiting until Gavin stopped squirming. He might have moved, but Gavin didn't feel a touch and his vision was currently too scrambled to keep track of what Ryan was doing. “I took out the main wire, I'm putting the new one in. Hang on.”

He calmed at the new information, still blinking as Ryan worked.

Something clicked, and Gavin jolted as the colors and shades started making sense again. Greens and blues registered first, and Gavin relaxed as his vision returned to normal. Then, bright reds, oranges, purples, colors filtering in and brightening as the seconds passed. Gavin tensed, fingers grasping hard at the edge of the counter. “What-- Ryan, what'd you do?”

“I fixed it,” Ryan mumbled, still fiddling with Gavin's neck. “Hang on, I'm not done.”

“But--” Gavin stopped and blinked hard. The world was _vivid_ , and the tones shocked him. He could see the red of the metal beams in the ceiling, pink tape around tool handles that labeled their size and type for the employees. Even Lindsay's purple shirt, which Gavin could have sworn was blue when he saw it last week. And her _hair_. “Everything looks different,” he said, at a loss for words.

“It should.” Ryan leaned up, grabbing the panel that covered his neck and slipping it back in place, tapping twice to be sure it wouldn't move. “There were some wires that were chewed up, probably snapped from rapid temperature changes while you were outside. Or . . . you said you got hit by a car once?” Gavin thought back to that event while Ryan paused, how the entire world had looked different after his head smacked the asphalt.

The world had lost its color.

Gavin's eyes went wide, and he nearly broke his new wires with how fast his head whipped around the shop. Yellows, blues, and grays had been prominent, and after so many weeks Gavin assumed it was normal, had forgotten almost entirely what the color red even looked like, and _now_ \--

He could _see_ again.

Ryan entered his vision, standing in front of Gavin with a puzzled look. “Either way, you've got new wires,” he said, continuing his previous thought. And Gavin balked, because it was Ryan.

Ryan, with cheeks flushed from exertion, with sandy tones and hints of red in his hair, and though Gavin saw the blue in them before, his eyes looked so much better compared to the warm shade of his skin.

He was in color, color Gavin had lost, and he looked amazing.

“I can see,” Gavin whispered, and then let his lips curl up in a smile. “Ryan, you fixed my vision! You're a genius!” He jumped down from the table and launched himself into Ryan's arms, not caring about the physical contact because now he could _see_ , and everything looked better than it had just a few minutes ago.

“What, yeah, yeah, I fixed it,” Ryan babbled, hands tenderly coming to rest on Gavin's shoulders. “You must have been having a hard time, dealing with sight that didn't work.” When Gavin pulled back, sheepishly tucking his hands against his side, Ryan beamed, and kept a hand on Gavin's arm, rubbing affectionately. “Can I ask what stopped working? I thought it was the color input, which would make sense, since I haven't noticed you bumping into doors or anything.”

“Red,” Gavin said, quietly pushing Ryan's hand off. It felt nice, but he couldn't let himself get too caught up, especially after that hug. “Reds, and oranges, and purples. Everything was gray and blue, I didn't even know your hair was brown.” He couldn't stop smiling, looking at Ryan with fresh information. He looked even better than Gavin thought he had, browns and pinks and tans much more appealing than the mottled gray Gavin thought made up his appearance. How could he have forgotten red, for goodness' sake.

“Thank you,” Gavin said, struck with the need to express himself properly. “Thank you so much for fixing me, Ryan, this is amazing.”

Ryan blushed, he blushed _pink_ , and Gavin felt a thrill go through him to see it. “It wasn't much,” Ryan said, putting a hand to the back of his neck. “Lucky for me most of your problems were simple, I think that bad knee was the trickiest part. I'm glad you're back to your old self, or what I assume was your old self.”

Gavin automatically looked down at his body, checking that he was indeed himself and not missing any strange pieces. No, he was whole, and now he could get back to--

Back to his original function.

Gavin went stiff, memories crashing down on him. He couldn't. It would defeat the whole purpose of leaving in the first place, and Ryan wouldn't keep him unless he had reason to. If Gavin weren't broken and he didn't want to work as a robot for him, he had little choice but to leave.

His thoughts were interrupted by an exaggerated “How cute!” from behind them, and Gavin and Ryan turned to see Lindsay grinning at them. Gavin was struck again by her hair, bright red and too strong for a natural human shade, so much brighter now that he could see it properly. For the first time since he'd met her, Gavin wondered if she dyed it.

“You two are adorable,” she said, sauntering up to them and patting Gavin on the head. He shuffled away slightly, and Lindsay relented, keeping her grin. “I'm glad you're happy, Gav. We're all excited to see you back to how you were. It's our job to fix people like you.”

Gavin didn't miss the word choice, but it reminded him of his dilemma.

“Yeah, I'm . . . fixed.” He glanced at Ryan, and down at the floor. “I guess I don't have much of a reason to stay anymore.”

Ryan went stiff, and Gavin looked up to see his face, tight with worry. Gavin recognized the expression and waited, knowing Ryan was about to say something.

“Gavin,” he started, and then stoped, eyes narrowing before he shook his head. “The first offer still stands, Gav. If you want to keep helping around the shop, you're more than welcome to stay. You've learned a lot, and we'd like to keep an automaton around. But only if you want.” He swallowed and shrugged, trying to look casual, but Gavin could see the tense set to his shoulders, and the way his eyes wouldn't stop moving, refusing to look at him. It was the move that Gavin usually pulled, and it was odd to see Ryan using it.

“I can stay?” he asked, tentative.

Ryan relaxed a little, and offered a smile. “If you want to, Gav.”

“If his old owner hasn't claimed him yet,” Lindsay added, raising her eyebrow at Ryan. “You _did_ report him to the police, right? And he hasn't been claimed?”

“Ah, well.” Ryan laughed, a hollow sound. “Not yet, Linds, I haven't exactly had the time. My car's a piece of crap and I'm not sure I trust it to ride the few minutes to work, let alone across the city to the police station.”

“Then call them,” she suggested. “Look, I'll do it right now.” Lindsay reached in her pocket to pull out a cell phone.

“Lindsay!” Ryan tried to snatch at it, grunting when she hid it behind her back. “Fine, fine, I'll report him as lost, but not now, he _just_ got repaired. I'll do it this weekend, I promise. And then his owner, who _let_ him stay lost and broken, will fail to claim him and he can be an official member of the shop. Right?” Ryan turned to Gavin with a hopeful smile.

“Right,” Gavin said, after a moment's hesitation. Ryan looked about over the moon, and to be honest, Gavin was excited, too. He wanted to be at the shop, and more importantly, he wanted to stay with Ryan. The thought of going back outside trying to find a place to stay, a place where he wouldn't be found again, made him shudder. But . . . “Do I have to stay here, now?”

Lindsay and Ryan looked at him, and at each other. “Well,” Ryan said slowly, “what do you want? My house is open, if you want it, but you can stay here, too, where there's better security. Not a lot of chance of someone stealing you if you're here.”

Stealing wasn't what worried Gavin, not with the way Ryan had been watching him these past few weeks. “If it's okay,” he said, “I'd like to stay with you, Rye.”

Ryan's brow crinkled, and then he grinned. “I'm more than happy to keep you with me.”

Gavin allowed himself a smile in return, shifting a little on his feet. “Thanks, then. That's what I want to do.”

Ryan was close suddenly, and he swept Gavin into a tight hug. Gavin yelped and struggled, but Ryan held, and as he accepted it, the instinct to pull away, to hide himself and not let Ryan near him, faded. Gavin held still, waiting for it to end as Ryan's warmth enveloped him.

“Oop, sorry.” Ryan pulled away, brushing his hands down his shirt. “I didn't mean to tackle you like that, Gav, I just got excited. I'm glad you want to stay.” He hesitated, and put his hand out, offering it to Gavin. “Welcome to the shop officially, I guess.”

“When he's not claimed by his last owner,” Lindsay added, with a fake cough.

Gavin took the offered hand, shaking it a couple times. “Thanks, Ryan.”

“You'll be great around here full time. Right, Griffon?” Ryan raised his voice, turning toward the garage.

“Whatever!” she yelled back, clearly not in on the conversation. Gavin couldn't hold back a giggle, and Ryan laughed with him.

“Well, if you two are done, there's actual work, and we don't need to spend the whole time in some giant love fest.” Lindsay waved her hand and turned to go back in the garage. “Stop making gaga eyes at each other and fix that damn bicycle that's been sitting around!”

Ryan blushed, and Gavin still delighted in the way his cheeks colored. He might have blushed himself, if he had any blood in his system. As it was, at Lindsay's words, his motors whirred a little faster and he clenched his hands, working off the emotion. Anything akin to-- _that_ , wasn't something Gavin needed. He was fixed, and he was staying with Ryan, and that was all he needed to know.

Provided the 'lost robot' report Ryan eventually filed wouldn't screw him over. But considering what happened before Gavin left home, he doubted anyone would be coming to find him. A month after it got filed, the claim would be closed, and Gavin would be able to get a new owner. He didn't doubt Ryan would be the one filling out the application.

The rest of the day, Gavin was quiet. He spoke to Ryan, but he didn't carry on conversation. There was too much to think about, too many variables. Ryan might be able to keep him, but he might also find out what Gavin was for, and well, if that happened, Gavin would have no choice but to leave. He wasn't going through the same thing again.

Ryan touched him a couple more times throughout the day, patting and casually touching him. Gavin squirmed away, even though the touching wasn't as bad as it had been, and a few times he found himself leaning into it. He usually caught himself before he got too wrapped up, and reminded himself why he was there. Work, to pay back Griffon and prove he could be useful. Ryan didn't complain about him moving away, looking chastised each time he forgot what Gavin had said about touching, and there were times when he stopped himself without needing to be reminded. Gavin might be more annoyed at the invasion of privacy after Ryan had asked whether he liked it, if he weren't used to it from his old life. Besides, Ryan's little brushes and pats were innocent. At least, Gavin hoped they were.

About halfway through the day, Gavin tried to help Caleb and Brandon. Kdin was busy working in his own, so Caleb welcomed the assistance. Brandon went a little stiff; Gavin hadn't talked to him much at all in his time at the shop. Once they got started, though, he relaxed, and Gavin eagerly fetched the tools he wanted.

Lindsay and Griffon were in the garage, as usual. Gavin went out for an hour to help. They shooed him away when the motorcycle started spewing exhaust every time they started it, Lindsay rushing to open a window despite the garage door already being up. Gavin cleared out quickly, not eager to get gas and smoke in his system.

It was back to Ryan after that, and Gavin lingered quietly. The worry over Ryan knowing what his purpose was taunted him, and made him slow to respond when Ryan asked questions. He furrowed his brow at Gavin and asked him more than once if he was okay. Gavin tried his best to imitate Ryan's smiles and assure him that he was fine.

Working at the shop never went by fast, and Gavin relaxed when he saw the clock nearing five. Ryan had noticed, as well, and started cleaning up his work station. Gavin waited by the door, dismissed from his duties. “We need to go shopping,” Ryan said on their way out the door, waving goodbye before they started the walk to where he parked. “Is that okay?”

“Yeah,” Gavin said, not sure why Ryan was asking. Normally he drove to the store and asked Gavin to wait without getting approval. It was his car and his food, and Gavin figured he had a right to go shopping whenever he wanted, and take Gavin along so the people in his neighborhood didn't try anything funny. Gavin learned quickly that while they weren't necessarily bad people, Ryan knew many of them were desperate and would do what they could for money, including taking someone else's robot and scrapping it. And because Gavin wasn't officially Ryan's, there would be little he could do to reprimand them for such a crime.

Gavin hoped he was right about the feeling that Ryan would be less upset about the theft than he would be about losing him.

They got to the store, Ryan parking in a spot in the middle rather than under the trees around the edges of the lot. He raised an eyebrow as Ryan got out, and jumped a little when Ryan opened the back door rather than striding into the store. “Come on,” he said, and tilted his head. “Out.”

“Why?” Gavin asked, even as he got out of the car. Ryan locked it and started across the parking lot. Gavin followed a couple steps behind him.

“You never come with me. I thought it was time for a change of pace.” Ryan slipped his hands in his pockets, watching Gavin from the corner of his eye as they made their way in. He picked up a shopping basket, walking toward the produce section.

At the sight of all the people doing their end of the day shopping, Gavin tensed. It could be the clothing store all over again, people staring at a robot they'd never seen and wondering what he was doing there. After they went out that day, Ryan had been mumbling something, and when Gavin asked, he shrugged it off as being annoyed about the price of the clothing. His favorite place to shop was across town, he'd said. Gavin suspected it was more about the people, by the way he'd acted when Gavin pointed out their staring. The thought of Ryan defending his honor was nice. Gavin had no way of knowing how true it was, though.

Now, however, no one stared. There were a few glances, and some of the children pointed, but no one gawked like before. Gavin stayed close to Ryan as he did his shopping, piling items into his basket. He picked out fruit, oranges and bananas, and some vegetables, and moved on to the aisles to find the basics for his next few meals. Ryan's eyes flicked to Gavin a couple times, and Gavin did his best not to look unnerved. When they'd been there a few minutes and he realized no one was blatantly gawking, his shoulders fell and his motors calmed. He might be unusual, but he wasn't a pariah here.

“Gavin,” Ryan said, when they were walking down an aisle. He picked out a couple packages from the shelf and held them up for Gavin to see, one in each hand. They were bags of rice. “Which kind is better?”

“Hm? Oh.” Gavin snapped his gaze forward , having been distracted by the rows of sauces. This wasn't his first time in a grocery store, but the brands he kept seeing weren't familiar at all, and rather than glass, all the containers were made of plastic. “Does it matter?” he said, glancing briefly at the bags in Ryan's hands.

“I thought you'd know.” Ryan held up one. “I've been using this stuff because it's cheaper, but I don't know if this,” he jostled the other bag, “might be better. Any thoughts?”

Gavin took a longer second to look at both bags, and then took them, flipping them over to look at the ingredients. There was little difference, except the serving sizes and the amount of coloring. “This one has less dyes in it,” Gavin finally said, holding up the one Ryan had been using. On second glance, he recognized the label from when he'd cooked. “If you care about that stuff. I don't think it'd hurt to get the other one, but it's more expensive so I don't see the point.”

“Great.” Ryan took both back and set the other on the shelf, tucking the first bag into his basket. “Thanks, Gavin.”

He shrugged. “I didn't do anything, you picked the one you always use.”

“Yeah, but I like a second opinion.” Ryan smiled. “Anything you'd recommend for dinner tonight? I've been eating a lot of stir fry and it's getting boring.”

Gavin glanced at the shelves as they walked, racking his brain for the bits of dietary information he'd stowed until stumbling into Ryan's life. “You could get broth and make some stew. That's always good, and it lasts a while. Don't you have that big pot?” Gavin had seen a giant green one with thick lining when Ryan had taken out a smaller one for making pasta one night.

“I do.” Ryan briefly looked over the shelves, walking forward until he caught sight of soup broths, and reaching out for them. His hand hovered, and he turned to Gavin. “Opinions?”

Gavin eyed the packages briefly. “This one's organic,” he said, pointing to one. “But it costs more. You could get this one and add some spices.” He gestured to another that was a dollar cheaper, and Ryan nabbed it.

Ryan also got some meat, avoiding the _really_ cheap stuff but not going for anything too pricey, and a couple other items before they started toward check out. Gavin walked faster than before, at Ryan's side rather than behind him. He had no idea why now of all times Ryan decided it was a good idea for Gavin to come along, but he'd engaged with him and it helped Gavin relax among the humans. There weren't any robots; they tended to be kept at home, like any other expensive appliance. They didn't need to be mobile like phones or tablets, and it was safer to coop them up.

Thankfully Ryan didn't feel the need to leave Gavin alone.

He was slightly surprised to find a robot at the check out, and on second thought, he shouldn't have been. Robots did a lot of menial labor, and from what Gavin last heard, it had damaged the job market. That was based on what he saw on the news, at least. Ryan didn't deny it when the stories came up on the screen as they rested in the living room together. In fact, he usually changed the channel.

The robot was designed to look like a typical human woman, although less advanced than Gavin by the look of her skin and the stiffness to her movements. There were few robots like Gavin that worked in places like this. Her dark hair fell about her shoulders, and she smiled at each customer that passed.

“Hello, sir,” she said, when they approached. She took the items from Ryan and scanned them, slipping them in plastic bags at the end of the line. When she looked up again, her eyes caught Gavin's, and she paused.

“You have a lovely robot,” she said, continuing to scan.

“He's an automaton,” Ryan quickly corrected, tossing Gavin a shy look, as if she'd offended him. Maybe Gavin liked the word robot less since he'd been given the choice to call himself something different, but hearing it didn't upset him, so he had no idea why Ryan seemed so apologetic.

“I don't recognize that model name, but I'm sure he does a wonderful job.” She finished bagging their items and rang them up. Ryan quickly paid and took his bags. There were two, and after a moment's hesitation, Gavin reached out and tugged on one.

Ryan stopped, and let out a pleased huff of air as he handed Gavin one of the bags. It was the lighter of the two, since the other one held the meat, and Gavin hefted it easily between his fingers. As long as he were here, he might as well help. As they walked to the car, though, his mind was far away.

The robot woman wasn't like robots Gavin had ever met before. He ran in very specific circles in his past life, and models as basic as her never came up. Gavin had been like her, though. Answering questions automatically, looking for the simplest solutions, never making trouble. Gavin had spent the first few months of his life looking to please his owner, and did little else. Robots weren't treated like people, and during the time he'd been called a robot, Gavin didn't act very human.

Until a while into living with his owner, at least.

Gavin looked up, at the parking lot, the people and the cars in it. It was all bright, the colors consuming everything. It reminded him of his home, being able to see everything vibrantly. He hadn't meant to forget what it was like, but it was easy not to think about while he'd been running away. Now, fixed up and working like he used to, Gavin couldn't help thinking of his old life.

When had he stopped being like that woman at the register, and started becoming his own person?

It happened before Ryan, that was for sure. It was the reason Gavin ran away. He tightened his grip around the bag's handles, plastic sliding against the plastic casing of his fingers. They reached the car shortly, and Ryan unlocked it, setting the grocery bags in the back. “Hey, Ryan?”

He looked up curiously, already moving to the front seat. “Yes?”

“Can I . . .” Gavin paused as he set the grocery bag down, hesitating by the back door. “Can I sit up front with you?”

Ryan's eyebrows shot up, hand stopping before the door handle. “Oh, um. Sure, yeah. Come on.” He gave a tentative smile and let himself in the car. Gavin watched him, and moved up to grab the passenger side door. Ryan was glancing expectantly across the seat. Gavin turned, staring at the front of the grocery shop, and back, opening the door carefully and getting inside.

“Glad to have you,” Ryan said in a light tone, starting the car. Gavin shrugged, legs tight and hands fiddling in his lap.

The drive was quiet, as usual. Ryan didn't prod Gavin for conversation until they got home most nights, when they were alone for a few hours and he wanted to fill the silence. When they arrived Gavin got both grocery bags, and Ryan thanked him as he unlocked the front door to let them in. “You're being helpful,” he said, taking the bags from Gavin to start putting the food away.

“Yeah, um. I'm happy to be fixed,” Gavin said, and flexed his fingers for emphasis.

“You look good as new.” Ryan put the meat in the fridge, and when he stood, his lips were pursed. “Gavin, I've been thinking about something.”

Gavin went stiff. He knew that tone. That tone was code for Ryan approaching a topic he didn't want to talk about, and he'd used it a lot in their first week together, as he interrogated Gavin about his past and how he'd ended up at the shop. Gavin sat at one of the kitchen stools, eyes on the floor. “What about?” he said, when Ryan stopped talking.

“About your habits,” he said casually. “Hey, can you put the cereal on top of the fridge for me?”

The request didn't make sense, because Ryan was taller, but Gavin did as asked, standing and getting the three boxes to put them up. As he stretched up and set them down in an orderly row, he felt hands on his hips, and yelped.

Ryan shushed him, hands tightening a bit. Gavin stilled, insides whirring rapidly at the feeling of such an intimate touch. This was it, Ryan had figured him out, he'd be asked to service him and Gavin didn't _want_ that--

“Relax. You're like a human, so responsive,” he said, with curious reverence, like he'd been wanting to test this, and it was suddenly clear that this unlike any other time Ryan touched him.

Ryan drew him back from the fridge, keeping his hands light on Gavin but with enough force that Gavin would have to twist away to move. “I've been thinking about what you said, about not liking being touched. You were pretty content to cuddle with me the other day.”

“Yeah, well. That was on my terms.” Honestly was probably the best policy, since Gavin was already in for it. He closed his eyes, ready for the onslaught, and opened them again when the touches left him. Turning, he saw Ryan standing away from him, eyebrows furrowed with guilt and . . . something else.

“That's what I thought,” he said, quiet.

A silence stretched between them, the last rays of daylight filtering in the kitchen window. When Gavin looked up again, the light had shifted, hitting Ryan's body. He moved to avoid it shining in his eyes, stepping closer to Gavin in the process. He opened his mouth, took a breath, and said, “Can you tell me something, Gavin? I've . . . thought about asking this for a while. Ever since that argument with Lindsay, actually.” He met Gavin's eyes.

Gavin could tell what he wanted to ask before he said it.

Better to ruin his life now, than put it off.

“Sure,” he said, with a shrug. Playing it casual didn't ease his worry, but maybe it wouldn't hurt as much if Gavin pretended he didn't care.

Ryan watched him carefully, waiting for Gavin to say something else. When he didn't, Ryan took another step, until there was only a few inches of space between them. Gavin wanted to run, out of the house and down the street, away from Ryan so his image of Gavin wouldn't be soiled by what he was about to ask.

Then he'd be back at square one.

So he waited, peering into Ryan's eyes, nearly shining with the reflection of the sunlight. “Gavin,” he started, and paused. Gavin said nothing, and he continued. “Are you a sexual model?”

The world stopped for a moment. Gavin could hear only the spinning of his motors, running faster as he panicked, and slowing when he came to the realization that, at this point, there was nothing he could do.

“Yes,” he said, barely above a whisper. “Yes, I'm a sexual model.”

“Then why were you outside?”

Gavin flinched at the question, ready to offer any sort of denial and deter what Ryan was asking, until he registered the words. Ryan wasn't asking about anything he could do, any of his functions or abilities. He'd skipped right over it.

“I, uh.” Gavin blinked. “I was leaving home. I told you, didn't I?”

“But that doesn't make any sense. Hang on.” Ryan grabbed him gently by the elbow, steering them into the living room and urging Gavin onto the couch. Ryan took the seat on the other side, keeping a space between them. He shifted sideways to face Gavin, and said, “Sexual models are the most expensive types of personal robots. Someone like you wouldn't have been left outside, even if you ran off. I'm sure your owner would have looked _endlessly_ for you by now. So, what happened? Why haven't you been found by now?” Ryan lowered his voice. “Are you even from around here, or did you come from somewhere further just to get away?”

Gavin sputtered. “What? No! I mean. Yeah, I'm from Austin. My-- my old owner lives here, too. Not near this neighborhood, though. And . . . he wouldn't be looking for me, anyway.” He put one hand on his knee, tracing the bend in his joint, the one Ryan had fixed so carefully.

“Why is that?” Ryan asked, brow furrowed. “You got all of your injuries when you left, didn't you? Or, were you broken before that? Why didn't he have you fixed?”

“Ryan, please!” Gavin slammed his free hand on the back of the couch. “I've tried my best not to think about this.” If he told Ryan, he'd be thrown out. Ryan would abandon him for the same reason his owner did, and Gavin would be forced outside, into the streets. He'd break everything Ryan fixed, and he wouldn't be able to find another person like Ryan to sympathize with him. “I don't just want to be a shop accessory, and after this you might not see me as anything better.”

He'd closed his eyes without thinking, and when Gavin opened them, Ryan was staring at him, his own eyes wide as he stared. “Gavin,” he said, reaching out. He stopped just before his hand touched Gavin's, and drew back. “You can trust me, I promise. I'll still care about you, no matter what it is. But I want to know. I want to . . . to help, if I can.”

“You won't want me,” Gavin said, casting his gaze down.

He felt fingers on his chin, and his head was forced up. Ryan hadn't hesitated to touch him this time, and his grip was firm to keep their eyes locked. “I'll _always_ want you, Gavin. We love having you at the shop. And I love having you here, as a roommate. Not a robot or automaton or any kind of object. You're a person, to me. Please. Why did your owner leave you alone like that? You can _trust_ me.”

Gavin shrunk back, Ryan's fingers hot on his skin as they gripped and forced him to look him in the eye.

He hadn't demanded use of Gavin when he found out what he really was, and now, he spoke to him like he would any other person. If he thought about it, Gavin couldn't recall being talked to like a robot, ever. In the first few days Ryan talked as if he were a child, someone naïve who needed the reassurance, but he'd never treated him like an object.

Taking a long moment to steady his body, Gavin said, “My AI is broken, Ryan. My owner couldn't have it fixed, so he told me to leave. He didn't throw me out or try to resell me, he _screamed_ at me and dumped me on the sidewalk. That's why I was outside, going nowhere and getting broken. I was already damaged from the start.”

Ryan gasped, letting go of Gavin's chin and drawing back. He looked Gavin over, nostrils flared and lips parted. “Broken? But.” He swallowed. “I didn't see anything wrong when I checked the computers. You installed new software just fine. What could be wrong?”

Gavin shrugged, slumping in his seat. “I . . .” He waited, biting his lip, watching the way Ryan's eyes got just a bit wider, open and eagerly waiting for his answer. “I emulated love,” he finally said, spitting the words out like they hurt him. “And sexual models are for physical pleasure only. Emulating human emotions, being in love, it's a flaw in the programming, something my owner couldn't fix. And he didn't want a dependent lover, he wanted an object to fuck. I . . . I've gotten used to it, I think. But I didn't want you to know. You don't want some ridiculous robot in love, either.”

“I . . .” Ryan swallowed, sitting up a bit as he looked at Gavin. “I've tried to respect your opinions, Gavin,” he said, “but that is about _the_ most wrong thing I've ever heard.”

“W-What?”

“Gavin,” Ryan said, shifting to sit closer to him, “I care about you. Maybe more than I should, given most people don't see you as another person. But that's how I think of you. Nothing could make me not want you, even something like this.” He paused, eyes darting away as he thought. “You really think you're in love with your old owner?”

“I was,” Gavin said, shame running through him. “I might still be, but . . . a lot of things have changed, since then. I spent so long outside, and I was getting broken, and I knew I'd be scrapped if I weren't careful. That's why I ended up at the shop, I wanted to fix myself so I wouldn't collapse and get sent to the trash heaps. I felt like giving up, but I didn't want to die.” Gavin pulled his legs up on the couch, curling them under himself.

Ryan said nothing, only looked at Gavin in silence. The sun had set during their conversation, and the fluorescent lights of the living room bathed them in odd shadows that fell over Ryan's face in sharp angles. He didn't look like himself in the unnatural light, and Gavin turned away. He couldn't bear to meet his eyes, not when he knew Ryan would tell him to leave, that he didn't want an automaton with a broken AI.

The longer the silence went, the more Gavin worried. When five minutes turned to ten, and then fifteen, Gavin looked up, clenching his hands into fists. “Ryan, please, don't fix me,” he said, voice in a whisper. “I know I'm not supposed to love people, that robots have to be detached. It's weird, and wrong, but please.” Gavin met his eyes, wanting to touch him and not wanting to frighten him any more than he already had. “Loving Burnie was the only thing I ever understood about myself. I don't want it taken away.”

“What?!”

Gavin snapped back, Ryan's tone biting him harshly. He was shocked, mouth gaping in disbelief, and softened the moment Gavin retreated. “Wait, no.” Ryan put a hand out, resting it on the couch cushion between them. “I'm sorry, I didn't mean to snap. Gavin, what in the world would make you think I want to do that?”

“I-- I thought you were mad,” Gavin said. “You weren't talking, and that's what my owner did right before he got rid of me. He wouldn't speak to me and then he started yelling . . .”

“Oh, no.” Ryan brought both hands up, hesitating, and when Gavin didn't flinch again, he put them both on his shoulders. “Gavin, I wasn't thinking about that. I mean, I've never heard of a robot-- automaton-- falling in love, but I would _never_ try and get rid of something that's a part of you. I value everything about you, including your emotions, whether or not other people think they're real.”

The hand in his hair sent Gavin's insides spinning again, AI working on overdrive to process the burst of feeling as Ryan pat him on the head. His touch was soft and comforting, working through the strands that pulled delicately on his sensors. He didn't just pat him once like he'd done before to congratulate or thank him, Ryan was petting him, rubbing his thumb against his scalp as his other fingers pulled on the hair and sent his senses reeling. It was close and wonderful, a touch Gavin hadn't felt in so long.

He launched forward, arms out and curling around Ryan's neck. His smell was strong, like wood in a fire, that came from working around the shop, and the cologne he wore that Gavin thought ridiculous because humans were supposed to have natural pheromones and the fake ones they used never appealed to him. His clothes were soft and wrinkled under his hands, shirt bunching as he clutched it. Gavin worked his nose into the crook of Ryan's neck, taking in his smooth skin and the warmth there, ten times better than the shallow touches he gave Gavin around other people.

He'd only hugged Ryan on a couple occasions, but this time it felt _good_. Ryan enveloped him, larger torso covering Gavin's slim frame easily, and a moment after he wrapped around him, Ryan's arms came up to complete the hug, tight around his chest.

In his mind, he saw the man who threw him out of his home. Burnie.

The one who'd bought him, the one who used him almost every day for his true function, but who kept Gavin on and around the house anyway, just to talk to him. The man who screamed at Gavin when he confessed his feelings, who ranted about the impossibility of robots falling in love just before shoving him from the car they'd been riding in, leaving him alone on the sidewalk to fend for himself.

Ryan hadn't thrown him out. Ryan had gotten mad at the thought of damaging him, of trying to fix Gavin in the same way Burnie had tried. And now he was hugging him, not like he wanted Gavin to come to bed with him, but liked he _cared_ about him.

If Gavin could, he'd be crying right now. As it was, he had a rough time holding Ryan without his body shaking as his AI struggled to take in the idea of someone wanting him for _him_ and not being upset that he'd gone against what he was meant to do.

Ryan pressed his hands hard to Gavin's back, heat seeping in from his skin. He tucked his cheek against the top of Gavin's head, and whispered to him, “Gavin, you're heating up.”

He hadn't realized, but as Gavin came back to himself, he could feel his system working itself too hard, as it did whenever his emotions took over. Gavin tried to pull away, but Ryan didn't let him do more than break the hug before taking up his hands, rubbing soft fingers carefully over the backs of them. The small hairs on Gavin's hand tingled with the touch, and he tightened his grip.

“Why don't we sleep,” Ryan suggested. “It's early, but I think we both have some things to think about. I'm pretty tired, anyway.”

Gavin nodded, numbly, amazed that he didn't feel the strong impulse to pull away from Ryan by now. Instead the touch was comforting, intimate in a way it shouldn't be for them simply holding hands. Ryan squeezed once, as if he'd read Gavin's thoughts. “Come on,” he said, standing from the couch.

He pulled Gavin into the bedroom, dropping his hands when they were inside to start stripping down. He pulled off his shirt and the muscle shirt beneath, tossing them in the corner. Gavin, confused, moved toward the door. If Ryan were undressing, it meant he was taking the bed tonight. Despite his insistence that Gavin needed a safe place to properly shut down, Ryan liked using the bed because his sofa was atrocious and, in Gavin's opinion, should be burned. Gavin said nothing about it, though, because it didn't matter for him personally and he'd be willing to bet Ryan couldn't afford a new couch.

A hand caught the door before Gavin could open it and slip out, and he turned back around to see Ryan raising an eyebrow at him. “Where do you think you're going?”

“Uh, to the couch?” Gavin shrugged. “Since you're taking the bed.”

Ryan smiled, amused. Rather than saying anything, he took Gavin's hand again and led him over to the bed, sitting him down with a force Gavin wouldn't have expected from such a gentle personality. Ryan kept his hands on Gavin's shoulders, watching him for a moment, before he let go and grabbed his pajamas. He slipped on his ratty bedtime shirt and pulled pajama bottoms on over his boxers, before sitting on the bed and swinging his legs onto it.

Gavin remained sitting at the base, staring at Ryan.

“Up,” Ryan urged, patting the spot beside him. Gavin blinked, and tentatively obeyed, sliding over the covers until he was sitting with Ryan at the headboard. Ryan leaned over to the bedside table, where he'd stowed the glasses case he usually kept in his pants pocket. He put on the lenses and snatched up the novel in the table's drawer, flipping it open to the page with a bookmark. He pushed his glasses up to adjust them and tugged the blankets over his legs. “It's early, still,” he said. “I'll get a couple chapters in before bed. Feel free to shut down, give your body a break.”

Gavin sat awkwardly at the top of the bed, crossed legged atop the sheets. He eyed the book Ryan had opened, and patted his own knees. “Um.” When Ryan glanced at him, Gavin ducked his head. “I don't have to be in bed with you.”

Ryan frowned, brow crinkling. “Did you not want to? I can take the couch again.”

“No! I mean, no, please don't.” Gavin had brought his hands up, and sheepishly lowered them, tangling both in the sheets between his legs. “I didn't mean that, this is nice,” he admitted, hunching his shoulders. What he meant was that Ryan had shocked him, dragging Gavin to bed the way he used to be by his old owner, how he'd been used almost every night for what he'd been designed to do, and yet Ryan was sitting there reading a _book_. The quaint, homey feeling flooded him, too familiar to his past and yet a completely different flavor of domesticity.

“Is there a problem?” Ryan asked, tucking the bookmark back between the pages of his novel.

“No, it's . . . I'm not used to this.” Gavin shrugged again. “Most people don't bother treating me like this, Rye. You should know that by now.”

Ryan pursed his lips, and he set the book down on his lap. “Gavin,” he said, shifting to face him, all his weight on his right hip. He stared at him, looking into Gavin's eyes with such intensity that Gavin looked away, staring at Ryan's chin so he could keep looking without shrinking under his bright blue gaze. “Listen,” Ryan said, after he'd been quiet for a minute. “No matter what, I want you here. I said it before, I like having you, as a roommate and a friend. Don't ever feel the need to do anything more than you already do, okay?”

The words were strong, determined, and when he finished, Gavin's eyes flicked back up to look at him. Ryan's lips tipped up, and he used one hand to cup Gavin's face, tracing his plastic skin so gently that shivers went through him at the light touch. Ryan drew back and picked up his book again, sitting up straighter as he started to read. “If you don't want to shut down just yet,” he said, his tone losing the quiet reverence, “I can read this aloud, keep you entertained for a while.”

Gavin considered the offer, checking the cover of the book not so discreetly. It was the action adventure Ryan had been working on since they met, now more than halfway through. Gavin weighed his options, but if he were honest, Ryan's voice had a pleasant hum, and he didn't care if he heard the story partway through. “Sure,” he said, laying on his side and letting his head fall onto a pillow. “Go ahead, wherever you left off.”

Ryan let out a small laugh, and removed the bookmark. “Chapter eight,” he said, and began reading.

He couldn't tell who the characters were, he had no idea why they were trying to assassinate the head of a fashion company, and if you asked Gavin at the end of it, the only reason he would know how chapter ten ended would be because he had an electronic memory storage. But Ryan's voice soothed him, and when Ryan laid down to sleep, Gavin felt safer than he ever had letting his system shut down, knowing Ryan was only a few feet away on the same mattress.

 


	7. fleeting sense of love

The official announcement that Gavin would be staying with the shop as an assistant shocked no one.

Ryan stood before the shop employees, and Griffon, with Gavin at his side. They all gave him vaguely pleased, but not surprised, looks. Griffon actually laughed at the idea that it would play out any differently. He knew it wasn't exactly news, after having Gavin with them for a month, but Ryan felt odd going along as usual without some way to mark the event.

“Anything else obvious that you want to tell us before we get back to work?” Lindsay asked, raising an eyebrow. “The sky is blue? It's hot out today?”

“Hey,” Ryan chided, glancing at Gavin. “I thought he deserved a welcome from all of us.”

“And he does.” Griffon stepped up beside them, smiling. “We're all happy to have Gavin with us. You've been a great help so far, sweetie.” She nodded at Gavin, and looked at Ryan. “As long as he's with us for good, would you mind uploading some information about the shop into him? He'll need it, if he's going to be tabbing orders.”

“Orders?” Gavin asked.

“Yes, orders.” She gestured vaguely to the front counter. “If you were temporary then I wouldn't mind letting you keep running around, but the truth is we don't need an entire person just to keep scurrying around the room fetching tools. I want you to handle the logbooks, if your processors are up to it.”

“Logbooks,” he muttered, glancing behind him. “Like, information about money and work hours and stuff?”

“Basically.” Griffon stepped around him to turn on their main computer. “You think you can hook him up and have everything downloaded?” She glanced at Ryan as she said it, typing something into the computer without looking.

“Yes, of course.” Ryan walked over to stand beside her, watching as she brought up the file with their purchasing information, and the logs on employee hours and paychecks. It was basic math, something anyone could do if they knew what information needed to get sorted where, and it was usually Griffon or his responsibility to take a couple hours each week to sort through it all.

If Gavin did it, they'd have extra time to get more work done, and a bit of relief from not having to handle all those numbers. Ryan didn't doubt it would be his job to double check Gavin's work for the first few weeks, but if he could handle it without making any errors, they could trust him, and it'd be one less job for them. Plus, Gavin would enjoy feeling useful. He'd said to Ryan himself that he didn't want to be seen as less important.

He looked over the top of the computer, where Gavin stood on the other side of the counter, scanning the shop before checking on Griffon and himself, and then scanning again for anyone who needed help.

After he had read to Gavin and gone to bed the night before, Ryan stayed awake to think about everything Gavin said. As much as he tried to play it cool and not upset Gavin, the information was . . . interesting, to say the least.

A robot, falling in love. Ryan blinked and shook his head. No, an automaton, but the same idea applied. Gavin was artificial and had developed enough consciousness to be self aware. As a sexual model, he was top of the line and likely contained some of the most developed AI Ryan would ever see, capable of learning from and imitating humans. That he could develop emotions wasn't much of a stretch, but it wasn't something Ryan had heard of. He wasn't an expert, either, though, so maybe some extra research on the topic was due.

Gavin had panicked about Ryan trying to fix him. Seeing that, and then looking back at all they'd gone through to help him in the shop, it was a miracle that Gavin hadn't panicked earlier. But Ryan hadn't known about his 'broken' AI, and perhaps Gavin figured that would keep him safe, if he stayed silent on the matter.

His AI _wasn't_ broken. That much Ryan could say. Even if he never saw a robot who said he'd loved someone, he wouldn't believe the lie Gavin had told himself about not functioning. If anything it was a breakthrough, but he wouldn't risk Gavin either being attacked or praised by reporters for claiming to have fallen in love with a human. Gavin needed a simple life without complications after what he'd been through.

Griffon moved from the computer, saying something about getting back to work before she turned and left for the garage. Ryan looked over what she'd brought up, and waved Gavin over. If he was as advanced as Ryan remembered from reading about various types of robots, Gavin would be able to handle the logbooks easily. He dug out a cable from one of the drawers under the counter. “Can you turn around?”

Gavin obeyed, and lifted his shirt as well, giving Ryan access to the small panel where he could be plugged in and used as another typical computer.

Once he had him plugged in, Ryan opened the necessary files and started transferring data, carefully navigating the maze that was Gavin's internal systems. Whoever had manufactured him needed a swift kick in the rear. Or at the very least, a lesson in how American computers worked.

It took a total of twenty minutes to transfer everything and be sure no mistakes were made. Ryan watched the screen and looked at Gavin, head tilting every few minutes as he watched.

A simple life. Ryan blinked as the thought passed through him. If the shop were simple enough, maybe Gavin could end his worries here.

“Fucking _hell_ , god damn it! Ryan!”

He and Gavin both jumped, and turned to see Griffon leaning in through the garage doorway. “Come here?” she said, voice tight in a way that suggested, despite the lilt, that her question wasn't the kind Ryan could answer. He moved to walk over, and paused, looking at Gavin. “Is he transferring files? Good. Leave him.” Griffon spoke softer than before, but waved her hand, urging Ryan to come.

“I'll be right back,” he whispered to Gavin, patting him once on the shoulder before obeying Griffon. He walked over and followed when she leaned back through the garage, jumping down the little half step between the two buildings. “What's up, is something wrong?”

“Actually.” Griffon stood in front of the garage bay, eyes trained on the street and arms crossed.

“I was hoping you could clear the traffic. It's scaring away our customers.”

“Hm?” Ryan stood beside her, looking out the open garage, and understood immediately. His eyes went wide and his lips parted. “Oh.”

“Yeah, 'oh.'” Griffons sighed, dropping her hands. As she spoke, Lindsay came out of the garage bathroom, walking up behind them. Griffon glanced at her, and back outside, to the group of people clumped in front of their store. “I don't want to be cruel. They _mean_ well, but . . .”

“It's bad for business,” Lindsay filled in, putting her hands on her hips. “We know, Griffon.”

Ryan frowned and clicked his tongue, turning from his coworkers back to the small crowd.

There weren't many. Eight, maybe nine, difficult to tell from across the street. They might look like any other group of people, except for the signs. They had gathered across from the garage, and each held a cardboard sign, either mounted on a stick or held between their fingers. They were bright oranges and greens, and in dark letters, they criticized exactly what Gryphon Repairs took pride in.

“Down with automaton commercialization, automatons are people too, stop treating them like accessories,” Lindsay read under her breath, quirking an eyebrow at the last one. There were more, each member of the group had a couple signs, and they switched out every few minutes, or held up both at once. “Yeesh. They are _on_ us today.”

Ryan brought a hand up to crack his knuckles. He'd dealt with people like this before.

“I was hoping you could try talking to them,” Griffon said, looking up at him. “You're big, so they listen, but you're also nice, so they listen _closely_.”

“Yeah, I know the drill.” Ryan scanned the small crowd, watching several people stop and ask what they were doing, how they eagerly pointed at Gryphon Repairs with wild gestures. “These eco friendly people really need to do their research. I don't think we've ever mistreated a robot.” Their owners on the other hand, weren't the best, and Ryan could understand if the robot sympathizers would be angry about _that_.

“Never,” Griffon agreed, puffing out her chest. “So can you try talking to them? It's not as big as the group back in October.”

“Sure, I will. Can you look after Gav? He's still in the middle of a file transfer.”

“I'll take care of it,” Lindsay said, turning to go into the shop. Ryan waited until he could see her approach Gavin through the open doorway, catching Gavin's eye and offering a tentative smile, before he went back to the garage front.

“They're being peaceful,” Griffon reminded him.

“I know. No harsh words. I'll do my best.” Ryan gave her a mock salute and, after checking to be sure no cars were careening down the road, he crossed.

The picketers always looked so shocked to see someone from the store approaching them. And usually, they didn't. A combo electronic repair and bike garage was busy, to say the least, and a lot of the time the picketers came around noon, when they were either eating or handling the lunch rush. No one liked coming over to talk to them.

And they didn't come often. Two or three times a year, to voice their opinions on the treatment of robots. Ryan would be on their side, if they didn't hold signs in front of probably the only shop in town that went out of its way to treat robots as well as they could. He could think of three other places in town, off the top of his head, that didn't have as much respect for artificial life as Griffon and her team.

“Hey,” he said, when he'd made it across the street and onto the sidewalk the small crowd had taken. They bristled when he walked toward them, the name tag from the shop gleaming under the sun. “Do you guys have a minute?”

None of them spoke, shifting on their feet. Ryan was careful to stay some distance away when he stopped, shoving his hands in his pockets. Some of them stiffened at the move, and he quickly pulled them out, fingers flexing to show he had nothing hidden in his fists.

One of them, an older woman, stepped to the side to meet him halfway. “Hello,” she said, calm but wary. She wore a loose t-shirt and shorts, to battle the Austin heat. There was no sign in her hands, and she stood with a rigid posture.

Ryan put both hands up. “I wanted to ask about you guys picketing in front of our store.”

“We're not in front of it,” she said, jerking her thumb behind her at the group. “We're across the street. Should be nothing wrong with that.”

“Yeah, but.” Ryan shrugged. “It's kind of slowing our business down. We're a repair shop, you know, and you're protesting treatment of robots--”

“Don't play dumb,” the woman snapped, ponytail flipping behind her as she looked sharply at him. “We're here every few months, we recognize you, and we know the drill. But you can't do diddly squat about us here, we're not on your property. We have a right to free speech.”

“I didn't say you didn't,” Ryan said, sucking in a breath to keep calm. “Listen, we've never mistreated robots, we help them.”

“You help their owners,” she said, eyes narrowing.

“Okay-- yeah, you got me.” Ryan swallowed and rubbed the back of his neck. These people were hard to talk to; they never tried to hurt anyone, and their meetings were always across the street like this woman had said, but people hated seeing protestors in front of Gryphon Repairs. Their business always slowed down in the couple weeks they spent on this street, before shifting their rotation to another store. Ryan knew they went around the city and it would take a while before they came back again, but each time they did, Griffon lost profits.

“Look,” he said, putting his hands up again. “I know what you're aiming for. Robots have consciousness and a lot of them are used as objects. Hell, that's why I have this job! I love robots, and I do my best to respect them. Maybe you _are_ against humans owning and using them. I get it, I really do. But you're picketing the wrong store. We do our best to help robots by fixing them.”

The woman crossed her arms, shifting to rest her weight on one foot. “I respect that,” she admitted. “Repairing robots keeps them with their owners, though, and we can't let that continue. No one should own something that can make its own decisions.”

Ryan let a breath out through his nose. He agreed with her, he really did. Especially since Gavin had moved in with him and shown Ryan how much personality a robot could have, how good it was to have one as a companion.

A thought hit him. Ryan paused, glancing at the store. He could see Griffon in the garage with Lindsay, both of them looking at the group every few minutes. They expected him to deal with the situation like he always did, trying to talk to the group until someone got too mad and Ryan had to leave before someone got punched, be it him or them. Ryan rarely used violence, but he'd defended himself when someone got carried away and tried to swing. If he weren't careful, it would happen again, and they'd be stuck at square one.

“Let me tell you something,” Ryan said, speaking softly. He turned to look the woman in the eye, doing his best to keep his body language loose for her comfort. “I know a robot,” he said, gesturing to the shop. “He works here, and he helps us out. I found him a month ago, beat up and about to crash. I've spent the last few weeks fixing him, and he's one of the best people I know. I really care about him.”

As he spoke, the woman's expression changed, from one of harsh disbelief to interest, lips pursed and head tilted slightly as she listened.

“He asked me to call him an automaton, because the word robot is too impersonal. And I've respected that. I treat him like anyone else I know.” Ryan swallowed, thoughts flying back to the night before. “I trust him, and I think he trusts me. Without the shop, though, I never would have met him, because he came there looking to get help.” He looked to the building, and back at the woman. “He's my friend, and I fixed him to help him, not some owner. That's what we're about. Maybe we repair objects that people ask us too, and maybe the robots that come in _do_ have humans using them. But all the robots I fix, I work on because they need it. Not for some payment. Okay?”

He waited patiently, watching the woman for unexpected violence or some sort of rant. He was sure she'd heard speeches like that and wouldn't hesitate to tell him off, to discredit him without thinking. But seconds passed, and the woman's eyes didn't leave him.

The other people in the group watched them both, having heard every word of the conversation. Ryan glanced at them, and back to the woman, waiting.

She slumped slightly, and shook her head. “You seem sincere,” she said, less to Ryan and more to herself. Glancing at the group of protesters behind her, and back, she said, “We're not leaving. We took time out of our schedules to be here, and this is a cause we believe in.”

Ryan lowered his hands, sucking in a breath to curse.

Before he could say a word, the woman continued, “What if we move down the block? We'll stop blocking your store for the day.” Her expression hardened. “Fixing robots so their owners can take advantage isn't something I care for. But.” She looked at the shop, and back at Ryan. “You really care for that robot you found?”

“Yes,” Ryan said, breathing a sigh of relief. “His name's Gavin, and he's about the best thing that ever happened to me. I want nothing more than to make him, and people like him, happier. I promise, we don't have any ill intentions.”

She sized him up again, laying a careful eye over him from head to toe, and nodded. “Fine, then. I'll see what I can do about us moving. I can't promise we won't be back. You are a place that works on robots, and even if you mean well, that won't stop abusers bringing their robots to you.”

That didn't bode well, and Griffon would be disappointed to hear that they hadn't solved much. But it was probably the best Ryan could get. The woman was being reasonable, and the others in the group weren't yelling at him.

“Thank you,” he said, nodding to her. “It helps. I know I can't convince you of anything and I appreciate you listening.”

“Yeah, sure.” She snorted and rolled her eyes. “Get out of here before one of my friends declares you a menace to artificial consciousness. We can get carried away, you know.”

Ryan knew that all too well, and waved quickly before turning to cross the road. Once he'd made it to the other side, he looked back to find the woman still watching him. He waved again, and retreated into the garage, where Griffon and Lindsay were waiting.

“Well?” Griffon asked, hands on her hips. “How did it go? I didn't see anyone throwing punches this time.”

“Yeah, it was better.” Ryan shook of the residual nerves, and patted his hair down. “I spoke to a woman, didn't catch her name, I think she was the organizer. Anyway, she said she'd try to move them down the block. I told her about how their protesting stops our business.”

“You've told them that before,” Lindsay pointed out, one eyebrow raised.

“Ah, yeah.” Ryan clamped his mouth shut and swallowed.

Lindsay furrowed her brow. “What'd you _actually_ tell them?”

“Um.” Ryan sucked in a breath, letting it out slowly. “All right, I might have mentioned Gavin.” He shrugged. “I thought if they heard me talk about a robot I cared for, they'd see our side of things. I didn't mention much, just used his situation as a way to point out that we only want the best for the robots that come in here.”

“Hm.” Griffon put a hand to her chin, considering. “Well done, I suppose. It's more leeway than we've ever gotten out of them.”

“I guess.” Lindsay was grinning now, and peered behind Ryan to glance across the street. “Looks like they're talking to each other now, I don't see any signs being held up. That'll be better for today's business, if they move. It's been kinda slow lately.”

“Kids are going to school,” Griffon said, waving a hand vaguely as she bent over the bike currently in the garage. “Less of the little critters breaking expensive toys for their parents to bring to us. It'll be worse in the winter, but after Christmas, it will pick back up like it always does.”

Lindsay nodded, shifting to stand at Griffon's side.

Sensing he was no longer needed, Ryan left the garage. In the building, the boys were calmly working or relaxing, and Gavin was at Ryan's section of the counter, sitting atop the wood with his feet dangling over the edge. When Ryan came in, he smiled and jumped down, walking over quickly. “What took you so long in there? I heard Griffon talking a lot.”

“Oh.” Ryan returned the smile and looked to his work space, empty. With no other work to do at the moment, he rested his hips against the counter and leaned back, crossing his arms. “I went across the street. I had to do an errand.” If Gavin knew they lost business to protesters, he might doing something about it, especially as an automaton. The last thing Ryan wanted was for Gavin to get mixed up in human affairs.

Gavin looked at him as though he might ask what Ryan was up to, but it passed after a moment, and he said, “What's next on the agenda, then? Lindsay finished the file thingy but she said there wasn't anything to do with the roster today.”

Ryan breathed with relief at the change of subject. “Nothing right now, which means I get to play around.”

Playing around meant messing with the spare parts they had, and Gavin followed Ryan to the storage room to pick out extra parts he could break down and put back together, to keep his skills fresh and learn more about the variety of work they did. Gavin brought him tools and watched, barely speaking when Ryan set to work and put himself in the zone of his mind where not much else mattered besides what his hands were doing.

It made the rest of the day pass in a calm wave, and when it was time to go home, Ryan felt more relaxed than he had in quite a long time.

Until they got home that night, and he remembered what Gavin had told him.

 

* * *

 

Ryan spent a few days mulling it over.

Gavin didn't bring it up again; falling in love, as he claimed. Ryan believed him without a doubt. He had to, or their entire friendship would shatter. Gavin trusted Ryan not to use him for unsavory reasons, and Ryan trusted Gavin to know himself better than the humans in his life who insisted he was only a piece of machinery.

It made the idea of Gavin in love churn his stomach, if Ryan were honest.

He thought about it whenever he and Gavin touched, which came more and more often. It was like admitting the truth about his past had unlocked something in Gavin. He didn't accept hugs or touch heavily, but the hand brushes over Ryan's arm got more frequent, and Gavin didn't shy away from nuzzling into him while they sat on the couch. The artificial warmth and the way Gavin molded into him made Ryan's heart beat faster, which was a problem in and of itself.

Any moment not spent working or occupying himself with hobbies, Ryan's mind drifted to it. Gavin had fallen in love and his owner threw him out for it. He couldn't imagine the kind of callousness a person like that would have. Ryan didn't plan to throw Gavin away, even if the love situation bothered him. He wanted Gavin to be okay.

They spent days in the shop together, working side by side. As Gavin got slowly more comfortable with touching Ryan, he was able to better help him work, keeping close and listening intently for anything Ryan wanted of him. With the software successfully installed, Gavin was able to process the logbooks at the end of the week, and calculate everyone's paychecks with minimal mistakes. Brandon got shortchanged by an hour, but it was an error in Griffon's entering the information manually. Gavin worked perfectly for the relatively easy task, and it took a burden off their shoulders.

It made Ryan relax when he went home, and spending time with Gavin got more frequent as he spent less time trying to unwind and watch over the robot at the same time. He let him spend time in the kitchen and watching movies with him, occasionally turning the TV off so he could read, and letting Gavin sit with him and listen. Reading aloud slowed his progress, but Gavin settled nicely under the sound of his voice, so he didn't mind.

Everything in his life felt domestic and cozy. It sent warmth thrumming through his veins, and Ryan found himself adjusting to the changes with ease.

“Hey,” he said to Gavin, a few days after the incident with the protesters. “Can you get me the instruction manual for this?” Ryan motioned to the clock in his hands, the one that hung up on the shop's walls. The hour hand was broken and Ryan would rather fix it than spend money on a new one. “It should be in the cupboards under the front counter.”

Gavin nodded and bounded off, chipper in the early morning. Ryan felt himself grinning as he watched him go, and perhaps lingering a little too long on the way Gavin's hair fell over his face as he bent down to open the cupboards up.

“Customer!” Griffon yelled from the garage, the sound carrying easily through the open door to the rest of the shop. The employees all started, surprised to see anyone this early on a Thursday. Lindsay hurried to straighten out her hair, and Caleb buttoned the top of his shirt.

Gavin popped up from behind the counter, clutching the manual for their clock. “What?”

“A customer is coming in,” Ryan explained, setting the clock down. “Griffon lets us know when she sees someone parking outside on a slow day. Usually people come in during the afternoon.”

Gavin hummed in understanding, watching the door that connected the main shop to the garage. Most people entered through the garage because the doors were already open. He'd met customers before, and Ryan didn't doubt that he could handle it. Wiping his hands over his coat, he turned to look at the door and greet whoever came inside.

 

* * *

 

Burnie was not a patient man.

He worked hard; he owned several business spread out over Austin, and he spent his days talking to managers about their sales, and conferring with other business owners about the best way to collaborate. He tried his best to make sure everyone got the most benefits and that no one he liked got screwed over. In an environment heavy with unemployment and new technology, it was no longer the type of lazy, fat cat job people liked to imagine he had. Burnie spent most of the day on his feet or on the phone, and by the end of this, his mind screamed for a break.

The simplest way to relax, for Burnie, was to go home, maybe cook a meal or have someone else cook for him, and curl up on his enormous couch with another warm body snuggled in next to him. Burnie didn't have time to date anyone-- most of the people he worked with couldn't stand to interact with him beyond business transactions, and hell if he had the time or energy to _find_ someone from the vast and diverse dating pool Austin offered-- and up until a few months ago, that hadn't mattered. He'd been able to go home and pull another body into his, soft and willing to do whatever Burnie asked.

That opportunity, of course, was long gone.

Burnie groaned as he sat down, a beer in one hand and the remote in the other. As he was about to turn the television on, he felt the phone in his pocket vibrate. He hissed; he _hated_ getting calls after he got home, especially because it was almost always some client whining about how they didn't like the deal he'd offered them. He debated whether the remote or the beer mattered more to him in that moment, and dropped the remote, sliding the beer to his lips as he dug out his phone and checked the caller ID.

Jose Jones. An associate. Huh.

Touching the accept button and fitting the phone to his ear, Burnie swallowed his beer and said, “What the fuck do you want, JJ? I got home two minutes ago and just opened a beer. This better be good.”

“Oh, it's good,” JJ's lilting voice said from the other end. Burnie could practically feel the smug coming through the line, and rolled his eyes. In the process he caught sight of Kara, walking in after putting the car away and running a search through the computer tablet in her hands that was connected with a wire to the port in her hand.

Faster data processing, if she could download the results of her work as soon as it came up on the tablet. Without a monitor to speak of, web searches were difficult for most robots, and Burnie still wanted to modify Kara to make it plausible. Until then, she got her own computer, pressing away on the pad as she flipped through holographic pages.

Staring at her and hoping she would say something positive about their latest endeavor, Burnie had missed what JJ said entirely. “I'm sorry, what?”

JJ laughed. “I didn't _think_ you were listening. I said, I was scouting out one of the lower income neighborhoods for free lots the other day, and I thought I saw a robot walking around with someone. I'm not sure, but I could have sworn he had those tell tale seams at his joints, and his skin was a bit off looking, you know how the plastic is, never quite human enough.”

Burnie had set his beer down on the coffee table, and now ran his free hand over his face. “Why do I _care_ , JJ?”

“Because the robot I saw looked suspiciously like the one you had that used to hang on your every word. Messy brown hair, lanky, kind of thin? With a bigger nose that you insisted was cute?”

The words jolted through him, and Burnie sat up, eyes wide. “What?!”

Again, JJ laughed, the bastard. “Yeah, exactly. Didn't you lose him months ago?”

“I-- yeah, I did.” Lose wasn't quite the right word, but JJ didn't need to know that. “Where'd you see him again?”

“Across town, in the poorer district. There's lots of little shops that keep going under, I thought we could utilize some of the space. I saw him out and about with some guy toting him around, maybe taking him somewhere. I thought you should know, just in case.”

“When?” Burnie asked, his chest tightening.

“I don't know, a week ago?”

“A _week?_ ” he snapped, growling against the speaker. “Why didn't you tell me, you ass?”

“I was busy!” JJ said. “Besides, you never asked about him, you just told us he was gone. I'm not sure I would have cared to mention, except you put an ad up for the little guy.”

Ah, fuck, that figured. Burnie snatched up his beer and took a swig, cursing Kara and himself for not thinking it through.

“So,” JJ drawled. “about that reward money for finding him?”

“Suck a dick,” Burnie spat, nearly collapsing his table when he set the beer back down. “You don't get squat for spotting a robot that _might_ be Gavin. Besides, I know you have at least ten times that amount in your personal account, not to mention your work account.”

“Fair enough, but how else will you find him--”

Burnie hit the 'end call' button so fast his thumb hurt. He shoved the phone in his pocket and stood, waving to catch Kara's attention. “Kara, we've got work to do.”

She dropped her attention from the tablet, looking at him. “Of course, sir. What is it?”

“Someone thinks they saw Gavin.” Burnie stalked to the kitchen, working off his energy. Kara followed dutifully, unable to catch up due to the difference in their strides, and Burnie was already pacing along the counters when she reached him. “Do a search for lost, and found, robot reports,” he said, grabbing some items off the shelf.

If cooking couldn't calm him down, nothing could.

Kara typed on her tablet. “Which neighborhoods, sir?”

“All of them, but focus on the ones with average income brackets lower than thirty thousand a year.” That would rule out where Burnie and his associates lived, but would include areas JJ might think were poor that weren't actually that poor. He was a bit of a snob when it came to money. Not that Burnie wasn't, but JJ took it to an extreme level.

“Will do, sir.” Kara swiped at the screen and brought a set of holograms up, pushing them away one by one and letting new ones spring up. Burnie glanced at her briefly, recognizing the format of the pages. A large photo at the top and bricks of writing underneath, describing the robot and its owner for the police tracking them down. Robots got stolen from stores and manufacturers all the time, by people desperate for money. The robots got sent to trash yards and pawn shops, taken apart and exchanged for cash. For the less advanced models, those without consciousness and who only operated on rough programming, it proved a problem only for their owners.

But someone like Gavin, who could feel pain and register terror?

Burnie's chest clenched, and he focused on the food he'd brought out. He cooked to relax, and the familiar motion of breading chicken soothed some of his tight muscles, even if his head whipped up each time he saw Kara pausing from the corner of his eye.

There were a million reasons Burnie shouldn't be feeling the way he did. Right now, though, he cared less about ethics than he did about finding Gavin safe and sound. If he were lucky, someone good came upon him and reported him like people were meant to do.

By the time he'd finished breading the chicken and started making the sauce, Kara had finished, closing the menus and screens with a slow blink. “Sir,” she said, waiting until she had Burnie's full attention, “I didn't find anything matching Gavin's profile. Nothing in the lost or the found reports. It seems he is either still missing or was taken by someone who did not report him.”

“Damn it.” Burnie slapped a hand on the counter, hissing at the pain. “God _damn_ it.”

“Would you like me to renew the report you filed last month?”

“No,” he said, shaking his head. “No, just-- it'll still have all the relevant information. Go, do something else, I don't care what.”

“Yes, sir. Shall I have Adam update my systems? It's been about two weeks.”

“Yeah, sure.” Burnie waved her off, staring at the counter and his hand that still vibrated with stinging pain. When Kara left, he shut his eyes and inhaled shakily.

Gavin might still be out there, and he might be okay. There was a chance someone found him and didn't report it, or that he was still wandering around. The rains they'd recently had followed by an intense heat didn't bode well for such a delicate machine, even if he'd managed to avoid anyone who sought to scrap him. Burnie had to believe, though. He had to believe Gavin was all right, or he'd never forgive himself.

The second he got the chance, he'd go out and search for Gavin himself.

 

* * *

 

Burnie hadn't taken a personal day in years. He rarely got sick and didn't have enough close family to have to schedule around birthdays or reunions. But the day after hearing what JJ told him, Burnie called the CEO at his office building, technically his inferior as far as pay scale and ability to fire people, to mention that he wouldn't be coming in. If Matt was shocked, he didn't show it in the way he spoke over the phone.

With that taken care of, Burnie dressed and made himself an omelet, eating quickly and urging Kara to follow him to the car. He left his other two robots at home, where they belonged. Neither would be any help in searching for Gavin.

Kara did a double check on reported robots, still finding nothing. Burnie sat back in his car, instructing his driver on where to go. They would be asking around the various electronic shops; if anyone had noticed a rogue robot, they would. He also planned to brush by local restaurants he owned, to check in and ask about Gavin. Burnie posted the ad for Gavin, rewarding anyone who brought him to Burnie, and the people who worked under his all knew about his missing robot by now. It didn't hurt to ask, in case anyone found something they didn't care to share with him.

Burnie was no fool. He knew Gavin's worth, and if anyone had found him and decided to keep that information to themselves, he would know about it.

They spent a couple hours lapping around the town in his car, Burnie keeping a sharp eye on the window while Kara watched the other side. Robots weren't often brought outside, at least not by good owners who took care of them, and catching sight of any person with a bar code or synthetic skin would be cause to stop and ask questions.

The people who lived near Burnie knew well enough not to take their robots out for random strolls, and in the lower income neighborhoods, no one owned a robot. Burnie saw nothing despite watching like a hawk, and sat back in his seat to rub his face.

“We would probably have more luck checking with the local stores, sir.”

He glanced at Kara, and nodded. “Gus, take us to the nearest store that deals with robots. Selling, repairing, buying, any of it.”

“Can I get a 'please' with that?” Gus asked from the front seat, although he did as asked and turned down the next street. “I don't think manually looking is going to do much good, Burnie.”

“What am I supposed to do?” Burnie didn't have the energy to be short with Gus this morning, but his driver had an attitude and it wasn't helping his rising anxiety. “I can't sit around meetings all the time, someone could snatch Gavin up at any second.”

“If they haven't already,” Gus said to himself. Burnie caught it, and didn't comment.

They were in the one of the poorer districts when Burnie had asked Gus to change course, and the first place they stopped in front of was what looked like a combined electronics and auto repair. Probably some old guy thought he could make better money working in the middle of an empty district if he did twice the labor. The paint was relatively new, though, and the sign that said _Gryphon Repairs_ loomed over the sidewalk. It didn't seem to be in shambles, and Burnie hoped that meant someone there was competent and could answer his questions.

He got out, Kara following close behind. She was checking her tablet again, following Burnie's orders to check at least a couple times an hour in case anything new popped up. The daylight made the holograms coming off the screen difficult to see, but Kara's enhanced vision handled it well. Burnie could barely make out what she was looking at when he turned to look, and didn't spend more than a second thinking about it. Kara knew what she was doing and didn't need Burnie worrying over it.

The garage attached to the main shop was open, and as they crossed the street, one of the two women inside shouted something to the open door on her left. She was blonde, short but with an intimidating number of tattoos, and a septum ring. She reminded Burnie of his friend Geoff, and he wondered idly if they might get along.

Next to her, bent down next to the motorcycle in the garage, was a red headed woman with a curious expression. Burnie guessed not many people in tailored suits walked in here. “Hello,” he said, stopping just inside the open garage door. “My name is Burnie Burns, and I wondered if you could help me.”

The red head's eyes flicked to Kara, still busy with her tablet, but the blonde cocked a hip and kept her gaze on him. “I'm Griffon. What can we do for you?” she asked, professional enough even though everything about her screamed casual.

“Do you work on robots here? I'm having an issue.” Burnie didn't like the look of the red head, the way her eyes swept over him, and he'd rather keep details to a minimum if he could.

The blonde, Griffon, jerked her thumb toward the open door at the wall. “Go inside and talk to Ryan, he's our specialist.”

“Thanks.” Burnie waved at them both and crossed the room, waiting for Kara, with her smaller walking gait, to catch up before he ducked under the doorway. Inside, the room was cooler, and sounds of a radio along with clanking tools enveloped him. Three men stood at various places in the room, one glancing toward the left wall where a door was banging. His brow was furrowed, and he quickly turned to look at Burnie as well. The three of them stared for a moment, blinking.

“Excuse me,” he said, loud enough to be heard above the radio. “I was told to ask for Ryan?”

The one who had been looking at the door raised his hand. “That would be me.” He stepped closer, casting one last glance at the door, which had stilled, before meeting Burnie's gaze. “How can I help you, sir?” Ryan looked at Kara, and his eyes widened a little. “Is there a problem with your robot there?”

“No, no,” Burnie said, and waved the topic away. Kara looked up at the mention of her, tucking the tablet under her hands as she folded them and smiled dutifully. “Actually,” he continued, “I have a question that I was hoping you could answer for me.”

“Oh?” Ryan leaned against the counter beside him, hand thrumming over the wooden top.

Burnie steeled himself, knowing this was a long shot, and said, “I lost a robot of mine, a couple months ago. I have a few, but this one was really important to me, and he left my home. I'm not sure why.” He licked his lips and inhaled quickly. “But I really need to find him and I haven't heard anything lately. I wondered if you might know something about that.”

As he spoke, Ryan went stiff. Burnie almost didn't catch him in the wave of shame that flooded him, but he saw the way his fingers tightened and his back straightened up. Narrowing his eyes, he continued, “I put out a report for him a couple weeks ago. I'm not sure if you guys ever check those.”

“Not typically.” Ryan seemed to gain back his footing, standing and offering a tentative smile. “We deal in repairs, we're not a lost and found. The only reports I ever look at are the ones people post on cork boards at the grocery store, old fashioned style.”

“Hm.” Burnie eyed him carefully, sweeping up the figure almost as tall as he was. “But have you seen any robots come by here that might be mine? You must not get that many, located where you are. Everyone who can afford a robot lives across town.”

Ryan shrugged, the motion stiff. “I haven't seen any robots someone like you would buy.” He nodded to Burnie's outfit. “We get the standard models that are used in stores, mostly.”

The rest of the shop employees were watching them and trying not to be obvious about it. A man with curly brown hair and thin glasses kept polishing the same monitor, and a dark haired man was playing on his phone while glancing at them every few minutes. The third kept dashing in and out of the garage, Burnie guessed to fill in the two women on what they were saying.

He'd watched people enough to know when he was under scrutiny.

Burnie looked to Ryan again, how his posture kept changing and he rubbed his neck several times, like he had an itch that wouldn't go away. He picked his next words carefully. “Are you sure? He'd be easy to spot. He's tall, thin, looks kind of like a raggedy teenager, with messy brown hair? I want to bring him home to make sure he isn't broken. I spent a lot of money on him, and I'm pretty worried.”

Ryan shrugged again, this time not meeting Burnie's eyes and instead staring intently at his forehead. “I'm sorry, sir. I can let you know if I see him, but if he got lost, he was probably stolen for parts. Bad people out there wouldn't leave a lost robot alone for too long.”

“Right, right.” Burnie nodded at Kara. “Send a fresh report out for Gavin,” he said, keeping an eye on Ryan in his peripheral vision. Ryan didn't make any other sudden or strange movements, though he rubbed at his neck again.

“Will do, sir.” Kara brought the tablet back up.

“Thanks anyway.” Burnie thrust a hand out, and Ryan took it. “My name is Burnie, by the way. Burnie Burns. Let me know if you see a robot that looks like it might be my Gavin, all right? You can find my number in any phone book.”

Ryan released his hand quickly after shaking. “Sure thing. Have a good day.”

“Yeah, you too.” Burnie turned and motioned for Kara to follow him, even though she would without him telling her. He waved at the women in the garage and the younger man talking to them, crossing the street again to get to his car. He saw the people in the garage watching him as he got in, but the tinted windows blurred them out once he shut the door.

“Well?” Gus asked, peering over the seat.

“Nothing. But . . .” Burnie furrowed his brow. “The guy I talked to was acting weird. Call me paranoid, Gus, but I think he knew more than he was letting on. He got nervous when I described Gavin.”

Gus snorted. “You're paranoid. Come on, if we're gonna be spending all day looking for your robot, we gotta keep moving.”

“Sure.” Burnie leaned back as Gus started the car and pulled into the street, craning his neck behind him to watch the shop fly behind them. “Kara, did you get the new report out?”

“A fresh missing robot report has been filed for Gavin with the local police. We'll find him, sir.” Kara leaned forward and pat his hand. “I think it's wise to keep looking. Gavin is resourceful and wouldn't let himself be caught by anyone with ill intentions.”

“Mm, yeah.” She was saying that because it was what Burnie wanted to hear, programmed to make him happy and keep him company. Kara was an academic robot, purposed towards calculations and following orders, but all of his robots had been given personalities, ways of communicating that came across as human. Gavin had been the liveliest of them all.

Burnie covered his eyes with one hand, rubbing harshly. “We'll hit all of the shops today and wait for news on the new report I filed. Can you handle that for me, Gus?”

“I don't see that I have a choice.” He glanced at Burnie through the rear-view mirror. “Hey, are you okay?”

“No,” Burnie said quickly, and went stiff. “Not really,” he said, softer.

Gus glanced at him again. “The next electronics shop is two blocks away. We'll be there soon, boss.”

Burnie smiled. Gus never called him 'boss.' “Okay, then.”

 

* * *

 

They arrived back at Burnie's home in the evening, after going to every store that might handle robots, including Burnie's regular mechanic, as well as the places Burnie owned to talk to the managers and employees. No one had seen Gavin, as expected from the results so far.

Once inside his own home, Burnie slammed a fist against the wall.

“Trouble, Burnie?”

He looked up, meeting the eyes of Joel, his financial assistant. The robot was an academic, designed to handle tracking stocks and bonds almost constantly. He was the only robot Burnie owned with a constant high speed Internet connection; it cost too much to keep up for his other three robots. Well, only two right now.

“We didn't hear anything about Gavin,” he said, standing up straight and cricking his neck. “No one saw a trace of him except for someone who thought they saw him in a back alley _once,_ and she didn't get a clear view so she wasn't sure. It's hardly any help now.”

“That sucks.” Joel, ever the poet, shrugged and slapped a hand on Burnie's shoulder. His personality, more casual than Kara, made him feel more like a friend even though he didn't have the same capacity to empathize that a personal model would. “I hope you find him soon.”

Burnie pushed Joel's hand off and wandered to the kitchen, pulling out food to make himself dinner. “It wouldn't be so bad if I hadn't waited months to do it. If I hadn't . . .” Burnie frowned, tossing rice on the table. “I should have questioned that guy some more.”

“What guy? Oh, API is up two percent.” Joel stood at the edge of the kitchen, blinking while his processor whirred through the information streaming from multiple websites.

“No live updates,” Burnie said as he filled a pot with water. “And there was a guy, he was kinda sketchy. Some mechanic I talked to at one of the stores, he got all jumpy when I mentioned Gavin. I think he was hiding something, but there were so many people, I . . . I guess I didn't want to look suspicious. It was weird enough, some guy in an expensive suit storming into their place asking about a lost robot when I already had one. I know people like that, who hunt down lost robots to sell them.” He set the stove on and leaned against the counter, drumming his fingers across it and biting his lip. “But he looked scared as dicks when I described Gavin.”

“Go back, then.” Joel tilted his head and blinked again, going through information in his mind that Burnie couldn't see. “Ask someone else and see if they act the same way.”

Burnie hummed and nodded. “That's probably a good idea.” He smiled at Joel and let out a small laugh. “You always have the simplest solutions for this stuff.”

“It's the most obvious choice, dude.”

The way he spoke, the language slightly stilted, made Burnie lose his smile. Joel was programmed to act as a casual friend when he wasn't working on stocks, but he slipped, using words Burnie didn't in ways he wouldn't, revealing his true nature in the moments Burnie got the most lost in their conversations.

Gavin did that, too, but it was charming. Burnie never minded being conscious of Gavin's status as a robot.

Until he'd thrown him out. Burnie hung his head, breathing in deep. The one thing that made Gavin stand out from other robots had been what got to him, in the end. And now he was paying the price, scanning the town and asking everyone he could think of whether they'd seen hide or hair of him.

Loud footsteps rang across the living room floor, and Adam shoved his way into the door with Joel. “Are you running stocks again? I told you not to!”

“I'm always running the stocks,” Joel said, turning to face Adam. The two tall robots were squashed in the doorway like sardines, and Burnie was drawn out of his thoughts at the sight.

“You almost overheated yesterday! Shut the program down and turn yourself off for an hour, or else I'm going to need to run diagnostics again.” Adam grabbed Joel's upper arm and yanked him out of the kitchen. “Sorry, Burnie. I won't let Joel work himself too hard again.”

“No problem, Adam.” Burnie nodded to him. Adam, a re-purposed labor model, had academic software custom installed when Burnie bought him used from Geoff. He was technically in charge of keeping tabs on all the electronics in the house, but more often than not Adam yelled at Joel about running too long and nearly breaking himself down.

It freed Burnie from some stress, to have a place at home where someone else got to be bossy, when he spent every day at work doing the same thing to his employees.

With the kitchen empty of robots, and no other companions at home to speak of-- he'd dismissed Gus for the day-- Burnie was left in silence. He glanced at the ceiling and windows, and stood up to turn the oven down and dump rice in the pot. Months ago, he would have had a high pitched, British voice pleading him to help with dinner, convincing Burnie he wouldn't get harmed by any of the equipment. And Burnie would refuse over and over again before huffing an exaggerated sigh and letting Gavin pull things from the fridge, watching with a pleased expression.

He would eat the dinner Gavin helped him make, and they would cuddle together on the couch afterward. Burnie would play some games or watch a cheesy romance to wind down, and he'd take Gavin to bed with him, working out the stress of the day between their bodies. Gavin had been as eager to do that as anything else Burnie did with him, but those days felt far away now.

Burnie left the kitchen and passed through the living room, going up the stairs. He would change out of his collared shirt and ironed pants, and eat dinner alone in his pajamas, like he'd done every night since Gavin left.

 


	8. pay respects to grace and virtue

Ryan swallowed around the lump in his throat as he watched the man called Burnie leave the shop, waiting until he heard the distinct sound of a car engine across the road before he moved.

It was only by good graces that Burnie Burns didn't ask to have a look around the shop for his robot. Ryan could have refused, but Burnie looked like the type that was used to getting his own way, carrying himself with a haughty air and demanding answers before he even knew if Ryan was guilty of hiding information, prodding at him even when Ryan denied seeing anything.

He knew the man was entirely right about Ryan lying, but he'd be dead before he let Burnie know that. Not after how Gavin reacted.

He turned, walking straight to the door of the storage room. Everyone in the shop was watching him; Caleb peeked in from the garage where he'd been talking to Lindsay and Griffon, and Brandon and Kdin both eyed him, because they _knew_ he had lied and neither of them knew why. Ryan would worry about explaining later.

Carefully, he opened the storage room door and flicked the light on. Inside, on a worn out chair, Gavin sat with his arms curled around himself. He jumped and yelped when Ryan turned the lights on, head whipping up, eyes wide. Ryan held his hands up, approaching him slowly. “Gavin?”

“Yes?” The answer was snapped, and Gavin made a choked noise, like he couldn't believe himself. Ryan knelt in front of him, one hand on Gavin's knee and the other on his own thigh, ready to comfort Gavin if need be. Cowering in the dark storage room the moment he saw Burnie through the open garage door told him enough about how the poor automaton felt.

“You look terrified,” he said quietly, wary of startling Gavin again. “So I have to ask: what's wrong? Who was that guy?”

Gavin shook his head before Ryan finished speaking, fisting his hands in his shirt.

“Come on,” Ryan urged. “You know I already suspect something, you might as well tell me if I'm wrong or not.”

Instead of answering, Gavin slid down the chair, until his knees hit the floor and he was level with Ryan. His arms came up and curled around Ryan's neck, head buried in his chest. Ryan could hear the faint hum of Gavin's insides, the machines working through his display of emotions and doing their best to keep up. He could feel the artificial heat of his touch and the way Gavin seemed to shiver with every movement.

If that didn't confirm Ryan's fears, nothing would.

That man, Burnie Burns, was the same Burnie that Gavin mentioned the night he told Ryan about his nature, and why he'd been thrown out. He hadn't left of his own accord, his owner got rid of him for experiencing something akin to human emotion. And now he was clinging to Ryan, shaking like a leaf and close to overheating with the effort it took to process his feelings. Robots weren't built for this kind of strain, for suffering through mistreatment and facing the one who caused them pain.

Ryan put his arms on Gavin's back, letting him hold tight.

He could rest assured that he did the right thing, lying and turning Burnie away. But if he were as wealthy as he looked and continued searching and questioning with the same kind of force, it might only be a matter of time before he found Gavin, either by himself or through someone else who saw him. And if he were smart, and Ryan figured he had to be either smart or desperate to check such a run down place like Gryphon Repairs for his lost robot, then he'd have kept Gavin's proof of ownership papers.

Anyone could look at those papers and the matching bar code on Gavin's neck and know that he belonged to whoever's name was listed.

“Come on,” Ryan said, urging Gavin to stand. He did so, but continued to cling to him, arms slipping from Ryan's neck only to grab his elbow and stay there. Ryan let him, as they left the small storage space. In the main area of the shop, everyone had gathered together, and turned to stare at them as they came in.

Griffon spoke first. “Well,” she said, raising an eyebrow. “According to Caleb, that man seemed to have some interesting questions.”

“Something about a lost robot,” Lindsay added, crossing her arms. “Ryan, how could _lie_ to him? I know you like Gavin, we all do! But it's illegal to keep a lost robot without reporting him! Mr. Burns obviously wants him back.”

Ryan narrowed his eyes at her, and turned to Gavin, who pressed tighter against his side. “You don't know the whole story,” he said, speaking loud enough for everyone to hear him.

“Oh?” Lindsay made a wide gesture. “Tell us, then. Tell us exactly why you broke the law and didn't report Gavin, and then lied to his owner when he came in looking for him!”

“Because he _isn't_ Gavin's owner!” Ryan growled, hands clenching into fists. Lindsay blinked, losing some of the stiffness in her posture. Ryan glared at the group, bringing one hand up to pet Gavin's hair softly a couple times. Gavin didn't flinch away, but leaned into it, hands flexing briefly where they held Ryan's arm.

“The fact that he called Gavin by name and described him accurately says differently,” Brandon said, breaking the silence.

“That's not the point.” Ryan took a deep breath. “Gavin shouldn't be living with him.”

His coworkers stared at him, waiting for the rest of the explanation.

Ryan groaned, not wanting to give it with Gavin clinging to his arm and obviously afraid. After a moment, though, he lifted his head. Looking at Ryan, he said, “You can tell them.” And he went back to burying his face in Ryan's shoulder, unwilling to detach from his side for more than a few seconds.

With a confirmation from Gavin, Ryan found the will to speak more easily, but he still hesitated before explaining. “Gavin isn't the same as the robots we usually get,” he started with. “Gavin's a high end personal model, expensive and designed to keep company for whoever buys him. Burnie Burns used him for that.”

“So what's the catch?” Griffon asked, eyeing him. Her stance was open, willing to listen, but her hard eyes told him to move on with the story. Ryan didn't blame her; Lindsay was correct about him breaking the laws about missing robots, and Griffon herself could easily go down for harboring a lost robot without reason.

“Burnie wasn't kind to him,” he said, getting to the point. “Gavin . . . I'm not sure if it's because he's foreign, or if he was custom made, but Gavin mimicked love towards Burnie. He had romantic feelings for him, and Burnie didn't want that. He . . .” Ryan swallowed. “He yelled at Gavin, blamed him for the issue, and threw him out. It's out and out emotional abandonment, and I don't want Gavin going back to a home like that, no matter how sincere Burnie might seem.”

The answer had them all stunned into silence, eyes wide and mouths open. Griffon was the first to recover, turning her gaze to Gavin. “Sweetie, is . . . is that true?”

Gavin lifted his head again. “I loved Burnie, with all my-- well, I don't have a heart. I loved him. And he told me to get lost.” His grip tightened on Ryan's arm. “That's how I ended up here. I'd been wandering around trying not to get sold for scrap, and climbed through the window. I figured I could try to fix some of the damage I'd done to my body. That's when Ryan found me, but I knew if I told anyone about Burnie I'd be given back to him.”

“I told you to report him!” Lindsay turned her sharp gaze on Ryan, hair flying as she whipped her head around. “He got here more than a month ago, and Burnie's just now looking for him, probably so he can use Gavin again instead of buying a shiny new toy. If you'd reported him to the police first thing, the claim would have expired by now and Gavin would be free to go to a new owner. Now this Burnie guy is looking for him and the police probably have Gavin's profile.”

The words stung, and Ryan hung his head. “I know that now,” he said, chancing a look at Gavin, who met it with understanding and something else Ryan didn't want to think about. “I never meant for this to happen, Gav. I just-- I figured that whoever had owned you didn't want you anymore, that we were safe.”

“It's okay.” Gavin's voice was low, and he leaned into Ryan. “I was going to run off once I was fixed. I wouldn't have wanted to be reported.”

“That's all well and good,” Brandon said, stepping forward, “but need I remind you that this is _highly illegal?_ Gavin's a missing robot, and they take merchandise like that seriously! If this Burnie guy doesn't find him and arrest you, you'll be questioned on why you didn't report him in sooner!”

“Ryan, you could go to jail,” Caleb whispered, his voice shaking.

“No one's going to jail!” Griffon held her hand up, motioning for everyone to be quiet. “We'll dispute it. It says in the manufacturing and purchasing rights of every robot that they're a simulated consciousness and thus, similar to pets, don't deserve to suffer abuse. If Burnie tries to take Gavin back, we can file against him and try to get his ownership rights taken.”

“Did you see his suit?” Kdin scoffed. “He's got lawyers up the ass, I bet. No way we're winning any kind of legal case against him. Gavin's as good as gone if that guy comes back here.”

The truth of it shook the group to the core, and when Griffon glared, Kdin shrunk back sheepishly. Ryan felt Gavin shift, a small noise coming from him, and he moved the hand of the arm he still clung to so that it rested at the small of Gavin's back, just above his access panel. “Don't worry,” he murmured, rubbing circles to calm him down.

“What'd you tell him?” Lindsay asked, anger fizzled in the wake of the very real threat looming over them. “About Gavin.”

“I said I hadn't seen him. That we only work on the more common models of robots around here and don't often check the police reports. When Gavin hid in the back room at the sight of him, I figured he was trouble.”

“So he doesn't know, yet.” Griffon bit her lip. “Ryan, I-- I don't want to get in a legal mess over this. I have to think of the shop, I can't worry about fines or jail time, we're barely standing as it is.” She turned wide eyes on him, and for the first time since he'd been hired, Ryan saw that she was scared.

“Then don't,” he said, the words coming easy. “I'll take the blame. You guys won't have to go down with me if he comes back, I'll say that I lied about filing a missing property report and you all thought it was perfectly fine to keep Gavin around--”

“You can't!” Caleb said, face pale. “You can't do that to yourself!”

“But it's close to the truth.” Ryan swallowed, hand pressing harder on Gavin's back. “I didn't lie, but I _did_ fail to file any kind of report. I kept Gavin in my house. If Burnie wants to press charges, I'm the one he wants. Not any of you. And I won't hear any buts about it.” He glared at his coworkers, the expression lacking any real heat. His heart pounded hard in his chest and, when he finished speaking, he felt Gavin's head lift from where it had buried against his shoulder.

“Ryan, don't do that. I'm the one who was running away--”

“But the responsibility falls on me in the eyes of the law.” Ryan shook his head at Gavin. “No arguments. If we're lucky as hell, Burnie won't come back here, but we'll have to lay low for a while. We can't risk him seeing you and taking you back. I won't let you go back to the man who threw you out of his home.”

“Ryan.” Gavin blinked, and frowned, pressing his face on his shoulder again. “You're gonna get yourself in trouble for me. I don't deserve that.”

“Of course you do.” Ryan put his free hand over Gavin's hair again, petting gently. “You deserve everything I can give you, Gavin.”

He stayed silent, pressed against him, as the others watched. Ryan might have been embarrassed at putting such a tender moment on display, but the shock and the reality of what was happening crashed around him, distracting him from caring about appearances. All he could focus on was the way Gavin clung to him, and how much he needed to be there for him.

No matter what, Burnie wouldn't have him. Ryan would do all he could to protect Gavin from that fate.

 

* * *

 

Laying low meant keeping Gavin as little more than a trapped pet, and it killed Ryan inside to see it.

They stopped going out. Gavin didn't come with him to shop for groceries or clothes, and stayed inside the car if he had to leave suddenly. Ryan still didn't trust the people around their neighborhood not to take him from the house, worried as everyone was about money and where to get, but Gavin was made to duck down and keep away from the windows when Ryan took him anywhere. The kitchen window's curtain stayed firmly closed, and Gavin wasn't allowed near the door unless Ryan opened it first and scanned the area.

At the shop, Gavin kept to the back room. He hid from customers, organizing the storage room or working through the logbooks installed on his system, and only came out when he was called for. To customers, he looked like a chipper robot popping up out of nowhere to assist in repairs, but the employees knew how he spent the time when he wasn't helping anyone. Luckily the high windows in the shop meant, on quiet days where no one would see him through the open garage door, Gavin could roam the room a little more freely. If there was heavy traffic outside and people milling around, though, he had to avoid the door and usually went back to the storage room for simplicity's sake.

Ryan filled the time with him doing other activities. They cooked together more, the kitchen bright enough even if the only light allowed inside was the fluorescent one in the ceiling. Gavin did well learning to help manually, and he smiled often enough that Ryan thought he might not be completely disappointed that their walks down the street had stopped.

They played games and watched movies like before, although Ryan insisted they go to bed earlier and kept the bedroom windows closed. He read chapters of his books to Gavin almost every night, to put off wrestling with the sheets in the morning hours of fighting off insomnia, and enjoyed Gavin cuddling up to him at night, as he seemed prone to doing ever since Burnie came around. They shared the bed almost constantly, partly so Ryan could keep an eye on Gavin, and partly because they simply liked the contact.

It wasn't the best reason for their sudden affection, and being wary at all times of where Gavin was and if he could be found by the roaming and unknown presence of Burnie exhausted Ryan, but he took what positive aspects he could get from all of this. Being attached practically at the hip wasn't so bad, when Gavin was the one attached to him.

When Ryan awoke one Saturday, more than a week after Burnie's visit, he was struck with the sudden desire to leave the house. Blinking back the sleep from his eyes, he sat up and ran a hand through his hair. He could picture how it would look today; despite the coming fall, Austin remained warm and it was supposed to be beautiful that weekend. The thought of window shopping and perhaps going to one of the local parks appealed to him on a day like this.

Slowly, Ryan turned to look down at Gavin, who blinked back up at him. Ryan jumped, unaware that Gavin had been awake. He shut himself off almost every night, to conserve power and rest his body. “Good morning,” he said a little breathlessly.

“Morning.” Gavin gave a small smile, but it was weak. Ryan furrowed his brow, reaching a hand out to pet Gavin's hair where it rested on his pillow. Gavin stirred, as he always did when he was being touched, but he'd warmed to contact with Ryan and didn't move away.

If Ryan wanted to go out, he would have to take Gavin with him. They couldn't wander and risk Burnie catching them. Ryan pursed his lips at the thought.

Gavin hadn't been doing well since being cooped up. For the first few days he seemed all right, but when the first weekend came and passed and they didn't leave the house, he lost his enthusiasm. He spoke more quietly and started reacting to noises again, jumping when Ryan banged a cupboard or turned the television on too loud. He'd faded since being trapped in the house and the shop.

“Gavin,” Ryan said slowly, removing his hand and leaning forward to look him in the eye. “Is there something wrong? I know we haven't done much since Burnie came around.”

He looked at Ryan, and away, staring at the wall.

“Gav,” he urged. “You can tell me.”

After a moment, eyes flicking between Ryan and the wall, Gavin turned over on his side. The blankets that Ryan insisted he use, if only because they couldn't be easily shifted with one person underneath them and another on top, curled around his long legs and thin waist. They looked good, draped over him. Ryan shook the thought away, meeting Gavin's gaze.

“When I was . . . at my old home,” Gavin started, face scrunching as he worked out the words, “Burnie only really used me for sex. There were other things, too. He let me watch him cook, and we watched TV together, things like that. But Burnie was always busy with work, running to and from the office all day. He wouldn't get home until nine or ten, and he'd never want to go out.” Gavin turned his face to the pillow, half burying himself in it. “I was in the house twenty four hours a day, nearly, and more than half that time Burnie wasn't there. So being stuck here . . . kind of reminds me of that.”

Ryan's heart clenched, mouth dropping open. He reminded Gavin of _Burnie_? Even for something like this, it made him curl a hand into a fist. “Fuck, Gavin,” he said, lowering his gaze. “I never meant--”

“Of course not!” Gavin quickly sat up, huddling close and putting a hand on Ryan's knee. “I know you're trying to do the best thing, waiting this out until Burnie gives up. I'm sorry, I can't help what reminds me of him.”

“Don't apologize.” Ryan took his hand and brushed his nose over it, pressing a light kiss to the palm. Gavin jumped, tugging his hand away, and regret washed through him. When Ryan looked up, however, Gavin was staring at the place he'd kissed, not with horror, but with quiet awe. He recognized the look from the many times Gavin expressed interest in the neighborhood around him with people and places he wasn't used to.

“None of this is your fault,” Ryan said, breathing deep. “It's mine, for not reporting you sooner and getting rid of Burnie's claim before he suddenly decided he wanted you back. We'll--” He swallowed, “we'll get through this.”

“I know.” Gavin spoke quietly, finally breaking his stare to look at him. “I trust you.”

“Still.” Ryan took hold of the thought before it could escape him, tossing the blankets aside to stand up. “Keeping you here with nowhere to go makes you feel bad, and we can't have that. I'd say after checking out the shop, Burnie probably won't hit our neighborhood looking for you. Let's take a short walk and cure some of this stir crazy feeling, huh?”

Gavin peered up at him from the bed. “Are you sure? I don't want to get you in trouble, Rye.”

He cricked his neck, sighing at the sound his sore bones made. “Ten minutes. We'll go out, stay near the house, and come back. I'm doing this to keep you happy, Gav, and if you're upset being cooped up, then there's not much point trying to keep Burnie from you. This might not be the best, but it's better than nothing, right?”

Gavin hummed his agreement, sliding out of the bed. Ryan opened his dresser and tossed Gavin the second set of clothes he'd gotten for him, that he wore when the others needed to be washed. Gavin slipped into his t-shirt and pants, and waited for Ryan to dress himself before following him from the bedroom. The house was bright, even with the curtains drawn, and sunlight peeked below them to cast thin rays on the floor. Ryan put on a light sweater and brushed his pants clean, looking up at Gavin as he stood. “Ready?”

He glanced at the door and back. “Yes. Are you sure about this?”

Ryan reached up and put a hand on Gavin's head, petting gently. Gavin closed his eyes and made a contented noise, shivering slightly. “I am,” Ryan said. “Let's get you out of this house.”

The day shone with a burning sun, autumn chills fading away as the morning ticked on. Ryan led them out of the house, locking it behind them, and led them down the street. People were out and about, doing errands, or just wandering like they were, some of them glancing as they passed but not with more than idle curiosity. Ryan walked close to Gavin, their arms brushing each other.

A few minutes into it, Gavin said, “This is nice, Ryan. I'm glad we could get out for a little bit.”

“Yeah,” Ryan agreed, nodding. “Me too. You were starting to look pretty down.”

Gavin looked at the ground. “I'm sorry, I didn't mean to be obvious.”

“Don't.” Ryan bumped Gavin gently. “You have no reason to apologize.”

Gavin peeked at him from beneath his bangs, and Ryan laughed, feeling warmth spread in his chest at the bashful look. Glancing down, Ryan saw Gavin's hand, open and hanging between them. Without pausing to consider the consequences, he looped his fingers over Gavin's, bringing it up just slightly to match where his hand naturally hung, and swung their connected hands between them.

He heard Gavin gasp, but only held tighter, rubbing his thumb across the back of Gavin's palm. “I hope you don't mind this,” he said, looking at him again.

Gavin shook his head quickly. “No, it's . . . it's nice.” He gave a tiny smile, and squeezed Ryan's hand. “I like it.”

As they walked, Gavin carried out little steps that Ryan might not have noticed, except for the fact that they were holding hands, and every movement Gavin made could be felt by the slight tug and release against Ryan's arm.

Gavin stepped around puddles, left over from the rain from the night before, staring at his reflection in them before moving on. He looked to the sky more than once, and every so often he would put a hand to his temple, blinking as he stared into nothing, before dropping his hand.

“What are you doing?” Ryan asked after the third time, lips twisting in a smirk.

“Checking the temperature,” Gavin said automatically, and then shrunk under Ryan's laugh. “It rained last night, but it's hot, so I have to watch the temperature and humidity. I don't want to risk breaking after you spent so long fixing me up.”

“Oh, well, in that case.” Ryan pulled Gavin's hand, knocking his balance so he collapsed against Ryan with a loud cry, working to pick his pace back up. “I'll always be here to fix you,” he continued, ignoring the indignant look Gavin shot him. “No need to worry so much about yourself.”

Gavin huffed, shoving off Ryan but keeping their hands linked. “I don't need you constantly watching me. Besides, this is basic stuff. Now that I'm fixed up and I know everything works, I can do my maintenance functions again.” A slow smile crept to his lips. “Honestly, it feels good. I feel like me again.”

Ryan's eyes went wide, and he turned back to the path they walked, with nothing to say to that.

When they'd been walking for about fifteen minutes, they came upon a park. It was small, with only a few kids running around, their exhausted parents sitting at the various picnic tables strewn about the still wet ground. “Hey, let's go in here,” he started to say, pulling Gavin toward the entrance.

Gavin yanked, stopping them both. Ryan looked at him, raising a brow.

Fidgeting, Gavin said, “We've already been out for a while. And in a park . . . I might get mud in me, or something.”

“Oh, we're fine.” Ryan _had_ lost track of time, but the park was small, and he wanted to show Gavin some of the flowers blooming at this time of year. Then they'd circle back to the house and it would be like nothing happened. “Besides,” he added, tucking Gavin close to his side, “I won't let you get dirtied up by some mud. I spent too long repairing you.”

Gavin pursed his lips. Ryan shook his head and placed a gentle kiss on the top of his head, trying to reassure him. He knew the mud and wet weren't the issue; Gavin seemed happy to use his old maintenance systems, but he hadn't gotten hung up on taking care of himself before now. Ryan would be willing to bet he was worried about Burnie, and he couldn't blame him. But he also wouldn't let them be so fearful that they gave up things like nice walks in parks and being able to stroll outside without running home as soon as they could.

Life was too short for that kind of thing.

“We'll be quick,” he promised, tempted to laugh again at the way Gavin patted the spot he'd just kissed with his free hand. Ryan pulled them both beyond the gate, taking the path rather than walking through the grass so they could look at the landscape.

Gavin stayed quiet as they walked, peering at the flowers and trees around them, along with the small, plastic playground sets. Sandboxes and a swing, a jungle gym and rocking horses on enormous springs, decorating the ground for kids to use. Ryan watched Gavin, the way his eyes flicked everywhere and he tensed when something new caught his eye and he had to process it. They were halfway through the tiny park when he said, “I've never been in a place like this before.”

Ryan took a deep breath. “Your old owner wouldn't have lived near a place like this, I imagine.”

“He had his own garden, but he never let me in it, and all the houses were big, no room for parks like this.” Gavin squeezed Ryan's hand and leaned into him. “He always said I'd get filthy if I stayed outside too much. Which I guess was true, since I got myself hurt trying to live outside.”

“That was when you were alone.” Ryan brought Gavin's hand up between them and pecked it lightly with his lips. “Now you have me, and I'll keep an eye on you.”

Gavin laughed a little at the touch to his hand, swinging their arms with slightly more force than Ryan had, when he dropped them back down. Around them, wind blew through the trees and rustled the leaves, droplets left from the rain scattering around them.

If he could, Ryan would show Gavin this kind of simple beauty every day.

 

* * *

 

The weekend's events brought on a lot to think about, come Monday.

In their house, with nothing to do but be absorbed in each other, playing games or watching movies or reading books, Ryan thought of Gavin only, and how they enjoyed each other's company. It was easy to slip into a habit of kissing him on the top of the head, or the back of his hand, letting Gavin curl into his side even when he hesitated to do so. Gavin still showed signs of discomfort for certain types of touching, like when Ryan's hand went too low on his hip or he brushed through his hair too fast and sent Gavin's artificial senses alight. But otherwise, he seemed to be getting used to it, and Ryan delighted in being able to share the contact.

It wasn't until Monday, coming into work after parking as close as he dared in the parking lot and hurrying them inside, that Ryan remembered this wasn't typical behavior.

He'd reached out, meaning to take Gavin's hand and grip it, to assure them both the day was good and they felt well, when Brandon approached. Ryan had flinched and pulled his hand back, getting a blank stare from Brandon as Gavin continued walking to the front counter, where Griffon was ready to give him the logbook information for that week.

“You okay?” Brandon asked, one eyebrow arched.

“Yeah, um.” Ryan rubbed his hand absently. “I'm fine. What's up?”

“Well.” Brandon scratched the back of his head. “According to Caleb, he saw that fancy car that belonged to that dude, Burns, around the neighborhood on his way to work. He wasn't sure what he was doing and he didn't see anyone in the car, I think he said the windows are tinted. But he had to go out for coffee this morning when he saw it, and he wanted me to warn you.”

Ryan swallowed, breath hitching. “He's still sniffing around here? We told him we don't have Gavin!”

“Yeah, but.” Brandon sighed. “To be honest, dude, you were kind of sketchy when he came in here asking about him. You kept twitching and looking at the back door where Gavin was. That Burns guy seemed astute enough, I wouldn't be shocked if he were suspicious.”

“I--” Ryan nearly tripped on his words. “Fuck, I didn't-- I was hoping he wouldn't come back.”

“If he's serious about getting Gavin back?” Brandon scuffed a shoe on the floor. “He'll probably check every available place in town for his robot twice over. He looked damn determined about it.”

Sucking in a harsh breath and slowly letting it out, Ryan nodded. “Okay. Thanks for telling me, Brandon.”

“Sure, sure.” Brandon stuffed his hands in his pockets and shrugged. “Just don't get us all arrested over this, all right?”

“Yeah.” Ryan tried to smile, but it fell flat. “I'll do my best.”

Brandon turned to attend his work, and when Ryan looked, Griffon was speaking to Gavin, low enough that he couldn't hear, while he was plugged in their computer. Gavin beamed at her, and then turned to Ryan, waving. Ryan took the signal and walked over, glancing between them.

“All filled up with this week's data?” he asked, setting a hand on Gavin's shoulder before quickly dropping it. Gavin brushed the spot idly, as he sometimes did with unexpected touch. Ryan didn't blame him for it.

“Yep.” Griffon knocked her hip against the counter. “He's been doing great, I don't dream about columns and numbers anymore.”

“Good.” Ryan looked at Gavin, smiling gently. “You don't need help running the logs, do you?”

“I'm fine.” Gavin blinked a couple times, and Ryan could hear his internal motors whirring, a sign that he was starting his work. Ryan took that as a cue to leave, nodding to them both and going to his work station to handle the latest project.

The problem was, most of what the shop did were small tasks that didn't occupy Ryan's mind as much as he'd hoped. The laptop on his table needed new casing, and the menial job left his mind free to wander, and glance often at Gavin standing behind the counter while he processed the data given to him. Griffon stayed nearby to supervise, tinkering with a bike part she'd been playing with over the past couple weeks.

What Brandon had said weighed heavy on his mind. Ryan sighed, slipping bits of plastic together and locking them in place. If Burnie was back in the neighborhood, no doubt he would come by the shop again and ask if they'd seen anything. After his first visit, Ryan went to the local police's website and, as Burnie said, among the ads for lost or stolen items, Gavin was one of the most recent, with a picture up and his barcode posted at the bottom of the ad. It matched the one on his neck, an easy way to identify him if he and Ryan were ever caught in their lie.

Until they knew Burnie wouldn't be looking anymore, they had no way of protecting Gavin besides hiding him. Ryan grit his teeth. He'd already been depressed about being trapped inside, and they took a risk going out for only a half hour to get him fresh air and new scenery. Staying inside indefinitely, until the ads disappeared and they could be sure Burnie wouldn't come back? It would be the only way to keep Gavin safe, and even then, putting a claim in with the police to relinquish Gavin's old ownership could get them caught. Burnie might still check the records, or the police would notify him even after he stopped putting reports out, and then Gavin would be lost.

They could give it their best shot, and the chance of Gavin going back to Burnie was still absurdly high.

It seemed like the only option was law breaking and fear, tucking Gavin away and hoping they never got found out. Ryan put his tools down, breathing hard. He hadn't meant for any of this to happen, and if he had just filed a missing report when Lindsay told him to, before Burnie started looking for Gavin, none of it would be a problem. It was his fault, pure and simple.

And really, being in love with Gavin didn't help.

Ryan glanced over again, and caught Gavin looking at him. He jumped and waved, shifting behind the counter. Ryan waved back, and turned to look down at his desk, inhaling slowly.

He had heard of people getting affectionate with their robots before. Especially personal models, that were designed with mimicking humans in mind. They were meant to be companions as well as useful accessories, and Gavin's model, available as a sex toy, made human-like behavior a primary task. He was meant to emulate caring and compassion, to treat someone the way they wanted to be treated. Ryan had done some reading, but nothing said anything about robots falling in love. That was most likely unique to Gavin, for whatever reason. Circumstance, a bug in programming, something. Ryan didn't mind it at all, not when he got a flush in his cheeks and his heartbeat picked up whenever Gavin let him come close, when Gavin initiated contact and showed signs of healing, of not regretting every touch a human gave him.

Ryan hadn't meant to feel anything. Gavin was a friend and, at this point, his roommate. They lived together and enjoyed each other's company. But he would be lying if he said the long nights reading books to him, curling up on the couch, cooking together, like a couple would do, weren't enjoyable. He relished every minute of it, more than he should.

It complicated the entire situation. If he loved Gavin, losing him to Burnie would hurt that much more. The selfish side of him knew that Gavin meant more than anyone else to Ryan. And for as much as he tried to put Gavin first, to keep him safe and worry about him as both a friend and something more romantic, he knew his own selfish desires. Part of him wanted to keep Gavin because he loved him, and wanted the automaton around for as long as possible.

Selfish stubbornness, was what it was. Ryan sighed, tapping a finger against his temple. He couldn't help but picture the life they might have if they didn't have to worry about Burnie. How they could enjoy each other, knowing Gavin had the capability to fall in love and that, if he played his cards right, Ryan might be the object of his affections. But he did still care about him as a friend, and that, more than anything, made him want a good life for Gavin.

And Burnie was not the one who would provide him with that.

So they were stuck, hiding until Burnie went away and walking on eggshells the rest of their lives if revoking Gavin's old ownership didn't work out. Ryan couldn't file a claim for him unless they let Burnie have an official chance to take him back by submitting a report and waiting for it to expire, and they couldn't do that until they knew Burnie wouldn't want him. Until that was verified, they were stuck.

Which left Ryan anxious and stressed, and let Gavin slip further into a bad mental state as he continued thinking of the way Burnie had kept him cooped up in his house the same way Ryan did now.

It was a poor time to deal with emotional backlash.

Ryan stood, dragging himself from his work to go back to the front counter. Gavin looked up from the computer, double checking the numbers the way Griffon taught him to. Griffon peeked up from her work, raising an eyebrow at him.

“Hey, Gavin.” Ryan swallowed. “Are you done?”

“Mostly.” Gavin blinked, the cameras in his eyes reflecting the bright reflection of the lights that buzzed over their heads. “Why?”

He glanced at Griffon, and back. “I wanted to talk to you about something.”

Ryan wasn't a man to leave an issue to rest when he'd found out about it, and he'd simmered on his feelings for several days already. With the threat of Burnie looming over them, he had no idea how much time they really had together; for all he knew, Burnie could walk back in the door and take Gavin away that very minute.

If they only had limited time, Ryan wouldn't spend it lying to either of them.

Gavin turned to Griffon. “Can I go? I got the hours for this week done, I was just sorting out next week's schedule.”

Griffon slid the keyboard across the counter before Gavin could finish, typing hurriedly to save the data while she threw him a quick smile. “Go ahead, sweetie.”

“Thanks.” Gavin bent down and unplugged the cord attaching him to the computer, gesturing at Ryan to his back. He obliged, taking the cord out at the other end and replacing the panel over Gavin's back and tucking his shirt back down. Gavin wrapped up the cord and put it back in the drawer. “All right, what is it?”

“Let's go in the storage room. It's . . . private.” Ryan licked his lips, nodding briefly to Griffon, and motioned for them to leave. Gavin followed, trailing behind with quick steps as Ryan opened the door and waited for Gavin before entering and flicking the lights on. He made sure to close the door behind him and stood away from it, aware that the material blocked absolutely no sound.

“What's up, Rye?” Gavin pulled out a plastic crate and sat heavily on it, looking up at Ryan until he did the same, and they were eye level.

“Gavin.” Ryan stopped himself, taking a deep breath. “Gavin, with all this shit . . . you don't want to go back to Burnie, do you?”

He went stiff, eyes wide. “What? No!”

“But you were in love with him.” Ryan's nostrils flared, and he clenched his hands. “That stuff doesn't easily go away.”

“Ryan, I--” Gavin hesitated, looking at the floor. “I think I still have some feelings for him. But I don't want to go back there!” He looked Ryan in the eyes, brow furrowed. “I hated being alone, and how he didn't give me the attention I wanted! He-- he was a good man, but he didn't know how to take care of someone else. It wasn't good for me, and it took me--” Gavin turned away. “It took me living with you to realize the difference.”

His head snapped up, gaping at Gavin, who ducked his head.

“You-- you mean that?”

“Of course I do.” Gavin's lips quirked up. “You take great care of me, Ryan. You fixed me for nothing and let me stay here with you and your friends. That's more than I could ever ask for, and I didn't even have to ask.”

“I'd do that for anyone.” Ryan paused. “But especially for you, Gavin. I really care about you.”

“I know. I think-- I mean, I'm an automaton, I don't know, but--” Gavin stumbled over his words, fidgeting in his seat. “I think I care about you, too.”

Ryan hummed, and reached a hand out slowly, taking Gavin's in his. “That's kind of what I meant to talk to you about.”

Gavin paled, not in the human sense because he didn't have blood, but the light in his eyes faded and his lips parted, waiting for a verbal blow.

He backtracked quickly, holding Gavin's hand tighter, “No, no, it's nothing bad, I promise.” Ryan put their foreheads together and closed his eyes briefly. “I believe everything when you say you care about me, that you have genuine emotions. I've always believed you. And, I . . .” He sucked in a breath, and shifted to press his lips to Gavin's cheek, tasting soft plastic that gave just slightly as he pushed his lips against it. Gavin didn't flinch, but his grip on Ryan's hand turned into a vice, metal insides spinning so fast Ryan could hear it like a siren.

“Hey, hey, hey.” Ryan shushed him, putting his other hand over the cheek he'd just kissed. “Calm down, I promise I won't do anything you don't want me to.”

“I--” Gavin stopped, looking into his eyes. “I'm not sure I want this.”

Ryan could practically hear his own heart breaking, even as the noises in Gavin's body slowed while they stared at each other. “Oh,” he said, and dropped his hand from Gavin's face. “I'm sorry, I didn't mean to push. I thought-- I love you, Gavin, I'm sorry I didn't make that clear before--”

“Rye!” Gavin pressed a finger hard to his lips. “Ryan, what the bloody hell do you mean?”

He tried to speak, words muffled around Gavin's finger until it was drawn away. “I was trying to confess my feelings?” he said, voice rising with doubt. “It's unorthodox, I know, but we've been close ever since you were fully repaired, and with all this crap going on, I didn't think it was fair to lie to you about it. As depressing as it is, I'm not sure how much time we have, with Burnie still looking for you, and I wanted to be honest.”

Gavin stared, unblinking, while Ryan spoke. When he finished, Gavin put his other hand on Ryan's, cradling them both gently around his fingers, while he still looked at him with bright curiosity. “You're confessing feelings?” he said, slipping up a bit over the last word.

“Yes.”

“So you _aren't_ asking me for sex?”

“God! I-- _what?_ ” Ryan nearly drew back, but Gavin had a hard grip on his hand now and he could only jerk with the shock. “No,” he said, firm. “I was absolutely not asking you to have sex with me. Not after all you've been through, Gav.”

“But.” Gavin leaned in. “You're human, aren't you? I figured you'd want sex after you found out what I was made for, that it was a matter of time.”

“Gavin! God.” Ryan put his free hand over his face, sliding it down over his eyes. “Yes, I happen to be one of those people that likes sex, but I wouldn't ask that of you, not if you didn't want to. Listen to me.” He reached out again, curling his hand over Gavin's shoulder and rubbing circles with his thumb. “I'm pretty damn sure I'm in love with you, which means that I want you happy. I like being close with you and I want to keep doing that, but I didn't want to lie about it.” He swallowed around the lump in his throat. “If Burnie keeps looking for you, I want to make the most of being together now.”

Gavin's eyes dropped down, and looked back, wider and scared. “You love me?”

“With everything I have.”

“And you won't-- have sex with me?”

“Not if you don't want it.”

“And Burnie--” He stopped, lips snapping shut. Ryan could imagine what he might say, and moved forward, wrapping his arm fully around Gavin while the other wrapped around Gavin's hands, spreading warmth through him as best he could. Ryan tucked his face into Gavin's temple and kissed lightly, heart fluttering from the fear and anxiety that had plagued them this past week.

“Burnie _won't_ get to you, if I can help it,” he said, whispering the words into his ear. “But I won't fail to do the right thing a second time. I should have reported you and nullified Burnie's ownership before, and I should be honest with you now. I love you, Gavin, and I'll do whatever I can to keep you safe.”

Slowly, Ryan felt Gavin's hands come up, releasing his own to clutch at his shirt, nose burying into his neck. He was running fast again, motors beating heavy inside him, and his fingers shook as they tangled in his shirt and pressed into the expanse of his back. He shifted his torso, leaning into Ryan, and he felt Gavin shifting his head against his neck. It took him a moment to realize he was nodding.

“Me, too,” he murmured, and pushed firmer into Ryan's grasp. “I love you, too, Ryan. I think, I'm just an automaton--”

Ryan hushed him, kissing his temple again. “There is _nothing_ wrong with you,” he said, “including having emotions like humans. If you think you care about someone, then you do, no question. And . . . I'm very happy to hear you say that.” He spread his legs, shifting the crate he sat on, until he could drag Gavin into his lap, letting the slighter body rest over him and curl into his chest. Gavin followed his guidance with easy movements, pulling away to readjust himself before resting on Ryan's legs and tucking himself close.

They stayed that way for a while, listening to the sounds of the shop and the people in it while they enjoyed the contact. Gavin twisted his hands in Ryan's shirt, feeling his muscles before going still, and then shifting again, like he couldn't believe he got to touch him. Ryan let him do as he pleased, holding one hand just above Gavin's access panel and the other over the back of his head, petting lightly through the hair. Gavin shivered when he brushed particularly hard, the hairs lighting up his sensors. It was no where near the startled reactions he'd had when they first met, and it made Ryan think of all the progress he made, even if he still had a lot of healing to do.

No, there was definitely no way he would let Burnie get a hold of him. He'd give Gavin to the police or another owner before he let Burnie keep him locked up in a big house with nothing to do but obey orders.

Enough time passed that Ryan guessed Griffon would start chewing him out for taking too long of a break, and he nudged Gavin, who pulled back to look him in the eye. “We gotta get back to work, buddy,” he said, leaning far enough to brush their noses together. The action made Gavin jump and let out a sudden laugh. “I'll ask Griffon to keep the garage door closed so you can stay in the main room for a while, how about that?”

“Sounds top.” Gavin got off him, and Ryan stood, the plastic crate underneath him creaking as it retook its original shape, snapping back in place without his weight to bear it down. Ryan kicked it aside, and turned to Gavin.

“Wait, before we go.” Gavin glanced at the door. “Can we try something?”

“Yeah?” Ryan stopped in his move toward the door, blinking at Gavin. “What?”

“I wanna kiss you.”

His heart beat galloped away, and Ryan sucked in a breath. He'd wanted to for a while, but to have Gavin suggest it? He could hardly believe it. “Are you sure?”

Gavin nodded, and stepped closer. “Burnie didn't kiss me often, but when he did, I really liked it. I always wished it were softer, though. Can we . . .try?” He looked up at Ryan, the picture of innocence with the way his eyelids fluttered.

“Sure,” Ryan breathed, before he'd meant to answer. But it felt right to say yes, and he moved in close, wrapping his arms loosely around Gavin's waist. “Is this okay?”

Gavin nodded, putting both hands tentatively against Ryan's chest. “Okay.”

They both hesitated, waiting for the other to move, and ended up leaning in at the same time. Ryan closed his eyes, waiting until he'd found Gavin's lips, and pushed gently. Gavin let him for a moment, before pushing back, and they found a slow rhythm. Gavin was warm, like many personal models, and though the texture wasn't what he was used to, Ryan melded into the feeling with ease.

It only lasted a few seconds, and Gavin pulled back, laughing again. “Sorry, um.” He bit his lip to hide the grin. “It's been a while. I like kissing you.”

Ryan laughed with him, bumping their foreheads together. “Come on, let's go back out. It's barely lunch and I have some work I could use help with.”

Gavin nodded, and followed with a slight bounce in his step, keeping close to Ryan as they left the storage room and situated themselves at his desk. Griffon agreed to close the door and cover the window for a couple hours; they needed it open for customers, but she could oblige, for Gavin's sake.

He leaned closer than before, touching Ryan every chance he got as he handed him tools and watched him work, until Griffon had to open the door up again. The touches and the way Gavin rattled off questions about what he was doing only made Ryan smile more.

And that smile faded, when Gavin had to leave, to hide in the back room and watch carefully for each new person that came in, in case that person was exactly who they didn't want to see.  


	9. dream of home tonight

What should have been the happiest time of Gavin's life became a struggle, and he spent endless hours trying to fix it.

Ryan loved him. He honestly loved Gavin, because he wouldn't have said it if he didn't mean it, and he'd kissed him, warm and sweet and inviting, the way a kiss should be. At least, the way Gavin thought they should be, if human fiction were to be trusted. It made him happy, motors whirring every time Ryan approached him for a hug or a kiss, stolen between moments in the shop and done often at home, and Gavin thought that should be a step in the right direction.

Burnie had cared for him. That much was true. He took care of Gavin, so intensely that he sometimes forgot he wasn't human. But he hadn't actually forgotten, and Gavin almost lost himself, putting so much into making Burnie happy when in return all he got were long hours alone in the house with no one to talk to.

He didn't have to focus on making Ryan happy, because Ryan _talked_ to him. After they shared the truth about Burnie with the rest of the shop, and the truth about how much trouble Ryan could be in, Ryan made sure to speak to him about everything. Where he was going, what they did each day, how he felt. Gavin felt little thrills go through him every time Ryan took him aside and mentioned something that bothered him, something Gavin could _help_ with. Even if it was usually something at work, Gavin cherished being able to do things without overworking himself. Ryan always kept an eye on him and never strayed too far.

They couldn't spend every minute glued to each other, with Ryan's work, but being cooped up as they waited out Burnie's interest in Gavin made them close. Gavin tried not to hang off him, but it was so hard, after his last owner spent so much time away. He didn't want to give up the proximity.

He _was_ useful. Gavin watched Ryan cook and used what he knew to make small things for him, snacks when Ryan looked hungry, and once, a botched toast breakfast that Ryan ate anyway. Gavin offered to draw baths when he could see the tenseness in his shoulders, asked Ryan to read together when he couldn't stop complaining about irritating customers. And the way Ryan always relaxed and smiled at him was satisfying in a way Gavin couldn't describe.

But by far the best part of being together, of loving a human and knowing Ryan loved him back, were the little things Gavin noticed. The way Ryan's breathing slowed down while unwinding from work. How soft his fingers were, running through his hair and setting off Gavin's sensors. The shine in his eyes in the morning when he woke up and looked at Gavin. Ryan was beautiful, although Gavin's concept of beauty might be skewed by bias.

It wasn't always that way, though. In fact, the little shared moments of joy were rare, as they spent the days together in what Gavin thought might be a relationship, but he couldn't be sure of because nothing about it was typical to what his programming said on the matter. They never went on dates, where Burnie or someone he knew might see them. They never shared more than kisses, even though Gavin stared at Ryan a little too much and wondered what he might look like naked, if his body was different from the only other human Gavin had seen without clothes.

They were too caught up in the risk of losing Gavin to really enjoy themselves. It made the good moments more special, but Gavin would trade how thrilling each one was if it meant they could happen without Ryan's constant over-the-shoulder glances, the tightness in his jaw. It stung worse than when Burnie had continually turned down Gavin's offers to share the evening when he got home from a long day at the office.

Gavin wanted to do something for Ryan, but he couldn't be sure what, because nothing really solved their situation. No matter what he did, Burnie would still be a lingering presence. They couldn't report Gavin until they were sure Burnie gave up, and even then there was no guarantee. Trivial things like imitating human romance paled in the wake of it.

But he couldn't keep letting Ryan get worn down. The fifth morning after telling everyone the truth, after days spent curled in Ryan's arms at home and sharing bright smiles at work, in between the stress and worry, Gavin got out of bed before Ryan. They still shared his room, for Ryan to keep an eye on him, and now just because they liked it.

Gavin moved slowly, careful not to jostle Ryan awake, and hurried to the kitchen. The curtains were still closed, but early morning light shone through the thin fabric. Gavin flipped the light switch, digging through the fridge as the lights buzzed on. A carton of eggs, a block of cheese, deli meat, and some of the herbs in the drawer, and he had what he wanted. Gavin laid them out and took the frying pan from the cupboard under the sink, hefting the heavy metal in his hands.

Omelets weren't supposed to be complicated. Gavin had seen Ryan make them a dozen times by now, and he followed the memorized instructions. Heated pan, whisk the eggs, slice the meat into smaller, bite sized pieces. Gavin glanced at the kitchen door, sure that he would wake Ryan up, and oiled the pan before sliding the whisked eggs onto it.

He had a sense of smell to track whether the food was burning or not, but it wasn't as refined as human smell, and Gavin continuously poked at the eggs with a fork to be sure they weren't sticking. He dropped bits of the meat and herbs into it before they solidified completely, flipping half of it over to make the omelet itself, folding eggs with meat and spices between.

By the time noises came from the living room through the open bedroom door, Gavin had moved the omelet on a plate, and was pouring orange juice in a glass. Ryan drank coffee, but lately it had been too many cups, and Gavin left the pot, still half full from last night, alone.

Ryan wandered in at half past seven, rubbing his eyes and yawning. “Gavin, what--” He stopped, some of the sleep fading when he saw breakfast laid out for him. “Did you . . . cook?”

“It's a little crisp,” Gavin admitted, eyeing the blackened edges of the omelet. “And you don't have the supplies to make a really _good_ omelet, but it should taste okay. Here.” He presented Ryan with the plate and glass of juice, unable to stop from bouncing on his heels. “I hope you like it.”

“Gavin . . .” Ryan set the dishes down, and Gavin fell, wondering if he did something wrong or if Ryan was mad because he cooked without him there to watch. But then arms were around his waist and Ryan leaned in, kissing him.

He sunk into it, hot lips and soft skin, so much better than the kisses he'd received in his past. Ryan pushed a bit, tongue poking tentatively, before he drew back to rest his forehead against Gavin's. “Thank you,” he said. “This was very sweet.” His eyes flicked up toward the kitchen window. “You didn't open the curtain, did you?”

“No.” Gavin shuffled his mild disappointment away. Ryan always drew back before they could do anything besides kissing and cuddling. For the first few days, getting used to his presence and how incredibly different Ryan was, warmer and always worried about Gavin, he appreciated a bit of distance.

Now the reality was setting in, and Gavin didn't want to waste time tip-toeing around issues.

Ryan let him go to pick up his breakfast from the table, moving to take it to the living room. Gavin put away the food and set the pan in the sink, before following, settling easily on the couch with him. The chair Gavin used to sit in to get away, to not have to be near Ryan, had been put back in the corner of the room.

The news didn't present anything of interest, besides the usual. Environmentalist types fighting for robot rights, which Gavin appreciated but didn't quite understand. Wars still going on in distant countries Gavin knew little about. Humans, losing jobs by the day and suffering. That only caught Gavin's attention because he heard Burnie talk about it often. The company he owned replaced a lot of their staff with robots, and many of their lower level employees muttered about job markets and how hard it was to get anywhere within a business. Burnie had said they were failing to see the vision of the future.

Ryan frowned at the television and turned it off. “I don't need to see more of this crap,” he said, biting into his eggs. He caught Gavin watching him expectantly, and smiled. “It's fantastic, Gavin, thank you,” he said when he swallowed, putting a hand behind Gavin's head to bring him close and kiss his forehead.

They went to work together, and soon separated. Gavin stayed near the back, away from the open garage door, and worked with their logbooks. Ryan tinkered with equipment, always glancing over at Gavin. They shared smiles and secret looks, avoiding the other employee's eyes and making a game of it.

Ryan explained to him, after they confessed their feelings, that he didn't think the others should know. Even if they could guess, he wouldn't confirm anything until they knew where they stood as far as Burnie. He'd said that if his coworkers knew they loved each other, they would either think he'd lost his senses, or they would fight that much harder to help him, help them both, and Ryan didn't want them caught in the fray.

So they kept their relationship quiet. Griffon had sent them looks once or twice that suggested her suspicions, but neither of them spoke about it, and that seemed to be enough for her not to ask. Gavin sat by the door of the storage room now, running through the information in his systems about this week's client reports.

Work was calm, the buzzing of the lights and clacking of people tinkering the only sounds permeating the space. Griffon and Lindsay didn't have much work in the garage, and hung out in the building instead, always keeping an eye on the garage door. Gavin smiled when they looked at him, although as the day wore on it felt less and less sincere. The shop, where they were on constant watch for Burnie, was no longer his favorite place to be. Gavin loved it, he truly did, but the tense environment and the stiff set to everyone's shoulders had started to get to him.

He hopped up quickly when Ryan gathered his coat and his phone, hurrying to follow him out. They walked fast to the car, Ryan chatting idly as he drove them home. They didn't have time to waste driving around town or stopping to peek in the evening shops on the way home, and Gavin kept his head ducked in the passenger seat.

At least at home he could relax a bit, even if being cooped up sent unpleasant curls of distaste through his motors. Gavin _hated_ being cooped up, but Ryan was constantly there and it made things better. He made dinner while Gavin watched, and they settled on his old, lumpy couch, watching some sitcom that came on when Ryan hit the power on the television. Gavin didn't pay attention, too caught up in Ryan's arm over his shoulder, side pressed up and spreading body heat through his sensors.

Gavin sighed, tucking his head against Ryan's chest. “Hey, Rye?”

“Mm?” he hummed through a mouth full of cooked rice.

He trailed a finger over Ryan's chest, hooking in his shirt. “How long do you think we'll have to wait Burnie out?”

Ryan nearly choked on his rice, coughing and slamming a hand against his chest as he struggled to swallow. Gavin sat back, watching with worried eyes until he'd settled again, leaning on the back of the couch. Gavin hesitated to take up his position, but Ryan nudged him close, and rubbed a hand over his shoulder. “The police claim on you will last a month, so assuming Burnie filed it pretty close to when he came looking for you, it'll be another few weeks. But . . .” Ryan took a deep breath. “I think we should wait longer than that, because chances are, the police will notify Burnie if you turn up under a lost robot claim immediately after his report expires.”

Gavin made a noise of agreement, nosing at Ryan's chest. Ryan put his half empty plate on the table and scooped him up with both arms, holding tight. “I'm sorry about this, Gavin.”

“It's all right.” Gavin shrugged. “Not like I wasn't prepared to have trouble when Burnie kicked me out, and being here is better than being lost in the street.”

Ryan kissed the top of his head, and Gavin shivered, hands tightening in his shirt as the sensation thrummed down his sensors. “Still,” Ryan said, “it's a bad situation. We'll fix it.”

“I know.” Gavin looked up and kissed Ryan on the cheek, nuzzling there. “I trust you.”

Ryan turned, catching his lips. Plush lips pressed hard, warmth skittering through Gavin, body picking up on all the subtle nuances as Ryan held him tighter, a hand over his hip and the other cradling Gavin's head as he pushed, opening his mouth.

Gavin had been built for this, but in the weeks following the end of his life with Burnie, he thought he would never kiss a human again, would never _want_ to. But Ryan was warm and solid, a safe space for Gavin to curl into and never emerge from again, because Ryan gave him everything he wanted. A nice home, a place to talk to other people and engage with them, even basic respect that he'd never gotten from the people Burnie knew, the ones who only saw him as a machine.

He pushed harder, tongue stroking Ryan's lips. He parted his legs, shifting to sit in Ryan's lap with a knee on each side, tilting to get more of Ryan's taste and heat. Burnie had always tasted of alcohol, sipping at beers as soon as he got home, but Ryan didn't drink, and after a bland rice dinner, all Gavin tasted was _him_.

He reached up to hold Ryan's neck, curling his fingers there and dragging them, marveling at the pulse of blood just under the surface, something he didn't have and wanted to spend forever figuring out.

“Gavin, Gav,” Ryan whispered, pulling away. His cheeks were stained red, and he smiled reassuringly at Gavin, tugging his hair gently. “Careful, there. You're gonna make me get carried away.”

Gavin pouted, slouching. Ryan never failed to stop them when the kissing and touching got heated, when he could feel Ryan's hands wandering and his breath coming fast. He'd loved it, the first few days, to know he didn't have to worry about Ryan jumping him, dragging him to bed when he didn't want it.

But spending so much time with him, it wasn't hard to realize that that worry had never been well founded in the first place, because Ryan wasn't Burnie, and he wasn't going to leave Gavin by himself the second he finished having sex with him.

“Maybe,” Gavin said, doing his best to lower his voice to a sultry tone, “I wanted you to get a little carried away.”

Ryan swallowed, patting his hands down Gavin's side. “What's that supposed to mean?”

Gavin responded with another kiss, picking up the heat and the smell of Ryan and the feeling of his lips, so pliant as he pushed and worked his own lips across them, pausing to let Ryan breathe because he was human and even if Gavin could go on kissing all day, Ryan probably couldn't.

Ryan made a noise in the back of his throat, hands tightening around Gavin. “I don't--” he said between pauses, as Gavin swallowed his mouth yet again. He placed a hand on Gavin's chest and pushed lightly, and Gavin broke away. He sucked in air to cool his body down, the water in his system already flowing freely to regulate his temperature.

Licking his lips, Ryan said, “I'm not sure if this is a good idea. I'm probably going to want something sexual if you keep kissing me like that.”

“Good, then,” Gavin said with a huff.

Ryan's eyebrows lifted, and he shifted back, putting extra distance between them. “Good? Gavin, I thought-- god, when you told me how you felt, you said you were scared that I just wanted sex from you!”

Gavin tugged at Ryan's shirt. “I did, but . . . you proved me wrong. You've been keeping me here for no good reason since the start, and you always make us stop kissing. You could have ordered me to have sex by now and gotten some, if it was what you were really after. But you still haven't. I'm in your bed, for god's sake.” Gavin let out a little laugh as he lifted his head to look Ryan in the eye. “I know you aren't my previous owner, and I want to show it, the best way I can.”

Ryan sighed, thumbing at Gavin's hip through his shirt. “I don't want this to be just because you need attention. If you suffered from neglect, it's possible the only reason you want this is to validate your affection, or something to that effect.” He shrugged. “I wouldn't want this to be a mistake.”

Gavin resisted the urge to roll his eyes, seeing the care and worry in Ryan's face. “I'm not human,” he said. “My mind doesn't work like yours.”

“But you still felt victimized by Burnie, didn't you? You wouldn't talk about him, and then you got upset about situations that reminded you of him.”

“Well--” Gavin stopped, leaning forward to put his head on Ryan's shoulder. “If there was one thing Burnie _did_ do, it was have sex with me. Practically every night, and he usually went to sleep right after. I didn't . . . get to cuddle with him much, or show him how much I cared. It felt good, physically, I'm designed to imitate human response, but.” Gavin nuzzled into the crook of Ryan's neck. “Emotionally, it was a bit crap.”

Ryan let out a small laugh at his word choice, running a hand down Gavin's back.

“So,” Gavin continued, wrapping his arms around Ryan's neck, “I know it would be different with you. You care about me, and I love you, and . . . you wouldn't leave me alone. You'd be attentive and kind, not like him. Right?” Gavin peered up, not willing to move from his perch.

“God, Gavin, of course.” Ryan pushed him closer, despite how closely they were plastered over each other already. “I'd do everything to make you happy. But if this is about comparing me to Burnie, I don't really want to do it.”

“What?” Gavin's voice rose with slight panic. “Why?”

“I don't know, because it doesn't make me feel good?” Ryan sighed and scratched at his neck the way he always did when he got nervous.

Gavin waited, watching him, and Ryan took a few deep breaths, a silence settling in before he spoke again. “Comparing me to someone else all the time isn't reassuring, Gav,” he said, and paused, licking his lips. “I don't blame you for it, but it's not healthy, even for an automaton. It makes me feel a bit like a replacement,” he admitted quietly.

“But you're not!” Gavin sat up, rubbing his hands over Ryan's shoulders in a desperate attempt to soothe his displeasure. “I love you, Ryan. I promise, I mean it! You're not a replacement, I didn't even want to fall in love again--”

A finger pressed to his lips, turning the rest of Gavin's protests into jumbled words. Ryan smiled at him, and moved his hand so he could give him a gentle kiss. “I know,” he said, brushing their noses together. “I wouldn't doubt that, Gav. But sometimes people do things without meaning to. You might not even realize it if I'm replacing Burnie for you.”

“You are _not_ ,” Gavin insisted with a huff. “You're so different! Even not counting how you treat me, you're calm, and quiet, and affectionate, and never thinking of yourself because other people are so important to you, and I love it all! You've never expected anything of me, and even when you do, you ask me to help instead of telling me, and you treat me like a person! You're--” Gavin swallowed, trying to sort out what his AI was shouting at him. “You're not a replacement for Burnie. You're _better_ than him.” He slumped, brow furrowed and eyes watching Ryan carefully for any sort of reaction.

Ryan tilted his head, and reached up, pushing his hand through Gavin's hair until Gavin made a soft, happy noise, before settling it on his hips again.

“Are you sure?” he whispered, his voice tight. “I don't-- want this to be a mistake.”

Gavin shook his head vehemently. “I love you, Ryan.” He pressed another kiss to his lips, both hands cupping his cheeks. “And I . . .” Gavin paused to take stock of himself, his whirring motors and hard running AI, how badly he really wanted this because he knew Ryan would be different, that Ryan would take care of him. “I want to experience this with someone who cares as much about me,” he said, “as I do about them. And I know you're that person.”

Ryan laughed, sliding a hand down Gavin's neck. “Am I, now? I would argue that I care more.”

Gavin beamed, slapping him on the shoulder. “You know what I mean, you git.”

Flinching, but still smiling, Ryan shifted to settle Gavin lower on his lap. “And this . . . what do we mean by it?” He raised an eyebrow, hand sliding down Gavin's hip and rubbing so gently, with such care, that Gavin almost sighed and asked him to press harder. “Gavin,” Ryan said, and he opened his eyes to look at him.

“I want sex,” he said, shocking himself with the simplicity of it. “But I want it differently. Not like how I experienced it before.”

“How was that?” Ryan, watching Gavin's eyes, moved the hem of his shirt up until his hand could slip underneath, rubbing slowly. The hairs of his belly were pushed back as Ryan touched the skin, and Gavin shivered, fingers tightening on Ryan's shoulders.

“B-Burnie,” Gavin stuttered, working his hips hard over Ryan's, “had sex with me like a toy, or someone-- someone meant to service him.” Gavin tried to keep his processors working in light of Ryan squeezing his hip, the warmth of his hand quickly spreading like fire over his senses. “Which I guess I was, but-- I hated it. Sometimes he'd take care of me, but I think he thought he didn't have to. I liked it, it was fun, but . . . unsatisfying, more often than not.”

Ryan hummed, stopping his caresses and pulling Gavin in for another kiss. “And you want to be taken care of?”

“I want reciprocation.” Gavin leaned into the kiss, panting to cycle air into his body and cool down the rapidly heating parts inside him. “I want you to feel good, and I want to feel good too. Is that okay?”

“More than.” Ryan kissed his cheek. “As long as you're sure. I don't want to risk triggering any bad memories, Gavin.”

“Nah, it's . . .” Gavin struggled to come up with a human comparison. “Like therapy?” he offered, tossing Ryan an awkward smile.

That got Ryan to grin again, running his hand over Gavin's back. “Tell me to stop if you need.” He thumbed the hem of Gavin's shirt, obviously tempted.

Gavin was ready to push that temptation over the edge. He surged forward, kissing Ryan in a rush of affection, arms wrapping tight around him to keep him still, in a vice grip. Ryan let out a grunt, and held on, kissing back easily. Gavin wiggled his hips more firmly in Ryan's lap, and he could feel the beginning presses of arousal against his thigh. His own body, designed to recognize the signs of sex and respond accordingly, would get aroused as Ryan's did, mimicking his reactions. He could simulate sex at an expert level, and damn if his AI wasn't designed to make Gavin feel just as good for it.

Burnie had treated him exactly as he was, an expensive sex toy that acted human, something he could play house with, and sometimes he _had_ forgotten Gavin's nature and treated him like he might treat a boyfriend. That part of Burnie was the part he fell in love with, the part that smiled at him and offered him food before remembering that Gavin couldn't eat, that let Gavin rest on top of his chest while he watched a movie on the couch, and rubbed his shoulders to feel like he was caring for someone else.

But Burnie hadn't acted like that all the time, and the reminders of being a product, something to be used, hurt Gavin more than he could describe. The way Burnie would roll over after sex and go to sleep without a word, how he would ignore Gavin in favor of his beer after work, how often he shushed him in the middle of conversation when his phone started to ring. Those parts sent pain through him as though he could feel it, and prompted Gavin to confess his feelings in an effort to stop it all.

Ryan treated him like his own person, and Gavin wanted that experience in all ways. He hated thinking of sex and getting memories of Burnie in return. It was time to make new memories and start pushing the old ones behind him.

He kissed at Ryan's neck, knowing exactly where the common human pleasure points were, and Ryan canted his hips up, whining low and holding both hands over Gavin's sides, tracing up and down and threatening to rip his shirt off. Gavin ran fluttery hands over Ryan's chest, nosing at the skin with his mouth and biting it lightly. The last time he'd had sex was months ago, but he remembered it well enough, his programming running the familiar processes automatically.

“Hey, hey,” Ryan said, pushing his hips up again, “let's not-- do this on the couch.”

Gavin hummed, biting his neck again. “Your bed isn't much bigger.”

“But it's a hell of a lot more comfortable.” Ryan pushed him off and away, standing with flushed cheeks and wild hair, and just the _sight_ of it made Gavin's motors spin faster. He wanted Ryan to always look at him like that, like Gavin was the center of his whole universe.

At this point, Ryan might as well have been _his_ center.

Ryan took his wrists and helped Gavin stand, bringing him in for another kiss. Gavin opened his mouth easily, pushing against Ryan's tongue. He wouldn't taste the same as another human, but he could do his damn best to make it feel good.

Tugging them to the bedroom door, Ryan paused with his hand on the handle. He turned to Gavin, brow furrowed slightly. “Gavin,” he said slowly, “are you sure this is okay?”

“Oh, not that bollocks.” Gavin sighed. “Yes, it's fine, bloody great, can we please go in and kiss more soon?”

Ryan snickered, nose crinkling, and opened the door. Gavin followed with eager steps. Ryan pulled off his socks before sitting on the bed, and Gavin did the same, crawling up to sit beside him. It had been a long time since he sat in a bed with sexual intentions, but Ryan's bed was warm, soft, familiar. Gavin ran his hands over the blankets before looking at Ryan again, and leaning in.

Taking the invitation with ease, Ryan cupped both sides of his face, kissing him hard before slipping up to Gavin's ears to bite lightly, rolling the lobe between his teeth. Gavin pressed his hands to Ryan's sides, tilting his head to encourage him.

A hand moved from Gavin's face, holding his hip, and Ryan shifted to push against him, urging Gavin onto the bed. Gavin obeyed, falling over on his back, and Ryan sat over him, hair falling in his face as he looked down. Gavin expected to be kissed again, and put his hands around Ryan's neck, but Ryan simply stared for a minute.

His eyes were soft, and he brushed fingers over Gavin's cheek, slow and gentle like he might hurt him. Gavin turned and kissed his fingers, smiling. “Be honest,” Ryan said, lowering his body until there were mere inches between their faces. Gavin could feel his breath, smell his deodorant and soap, and locked his fingers more tightly around Ryan's neck.

“Yeah?” he prompted.

“Do you really want to do this?” Ryan put up his other finger to silence him when Gavin started to protest, pressing it playfully over his lips. “I mean it,” he said. “I'm a sexual person, Gav, but your happiness matters to me. If you never wanted to have sex again, I would understand. After everything you went through, I'd feel terrible if I somehow made it worse.”

Gavin took a moment to watch Ryan's face, how his lips twitched and his eyes swept over him, so bright Gavin could drown in them, if drowning were something physically possible for him. Ryan's pupils had blown wide with desire, but his hesitant expression, how his eyebrows were drawn just slightly as he waited for Gavin's answer, told Gavin everything he needed to know.

Ryan wanted Gavin for him, for who he was, and he was willing to give up what he wanted to make Gavin comfortable.

“I want to be with you,” Gavin said, shifting up to give Ryan a chaste kiss, settling back on the pillows. “In every way, Ryan. I enjoyed the sex with Burnie, it just . . . got tangled up in a lot of other things. But I'm safe with you, I know I am. So, if you want this, then so do I.”

Ryan smiled, and pressed their foreheads together, heat spreading from his skin to Gavin's. He took a few deep breaths. “I really want this,” he admitted. “Tell me the second you get uncomfortable, okay?”

“Will do.” Gavin yanked on his neck, and Ryan yelped as their faces crashed together, lips falling into a sloppy mess. Gavin kissed him a few times, and dropped his hands, tugging at the bottom of his shirt. “Up,” he told Ryan. “Clothes off.”

Ryan listened, sitting up, and Gavin pulled off his shirt while Ryan did the same. They'd seen each other shirtless before, and Ryan slept in his boxers more often than not, so the broad chest wasn't new, but the hard breaths and skin flushed with blood made it look completely different. Gavin sat up and tentatively felt over his chest, pushing and pulling where the skin was loose just to see the way it moved.

“That tickles,” Ryan said, prying his fingers away and kissing him again. Gavin moaned into it, aware of a sudden shifting, and clothes hit the floor. He peeked down to see that Ryan had removed his pants as well, and there was an obvious tent in his boxers.

Working almost on instinct, he reached down and palmed Ryan's cock. Ryan's breath hitched, and he jerked into it, panting. “Gavin, fuck--”

“Has it been a while?” Gavin squeezed the hot flesh under his hand, feeling it pulse under the layer of cloth separating him from it. “I mean, I know I've been around the house and that kind of stopped you.” He grinned sheepishly.

Ryan smirked, sucking in a breath as he pushed Gavin's hand away. “It has been a while,” he said, “but there's no need to rush. Do you want to get undressed too?”

Gavin started to slide his pants off before Ryan had finished his question, eager to please him. “Do you want me on my back or my stomach?” he asked, leaning on the pillows.

“I'm-- what?”

“What position?” Gavin clarified, spreading his legs a little. Ryan had bought him underwear, on an afternoon when they went shopping, and blushing horribly the entire time; now they stretched over his thighs, the soft fabric rubbing pleasantly over the skin as Gavin adjusted himself to spread across the bed.

His system was kicking into gear, getting ready to perform the task for which he'd been built. His cock, artificial though it might be, was capable of getting hard and stimulating him, and it pushed against his boxers. Gavin wiggled his hips as Ryan continued to stare at him. “Come on, you've got to have a preference.”

“Gavin-- no, hold on.” Ryan's brow furrowed, and he lay beside Gavin, on his elbow with his face tucked in his palm. “This isn't about me, I don't want to order you around. What do _you_ want to do?”

Gavin opened his mouth, and closed it. “I'm not sure. Burnie always directed me, and I trusted him to know what was best.”

Ryan's lips turned down at the mention, and he sighed. “Okay, well, what felt the best? Penetration, touching, frotting? Give me a hand here, I want to make this good.”

“Can't we just do what you like?”

“Gav,” Ryan said, breathing out hard. “I've had sex before, I know how to get off. And I know you have, but, well. This feels special. Do you have any idea about your preferences, or did you just follow Burnie's lead all the time?”

Gavin looked down at the mattress, memories washing over him. Burnie had . . . had asked, if things felt good or if Gavin was enjoying it. He took care, rubbing over his skin and setting his sensors alight. But . . . Gavin wasn't sure if Burnie had ever explicitly asked Gavin to guide them, to take a direction. It felt good regardless, even if Burnie often left bed afterward to go downstairs and work on his laptop, and Gavin never bothered to question it. The one time he had, Burnie said simply that he liked being the one in control, and they left it at that.

He was a robot, at least with Burnie. Gavin's functions were about listening to his owner and providing them with pleasure, not concerning himself with any of it.

“I guess I never thought about it,” Gavin said, quiet.

“Okay.” Ryan brought a hand up to cup his face, kissing him sweetly. “Let's go slow and you tell me if something comes to mind. I want you getting just as much out of this as I do.”

Gavin felt the warmth of Ryan's touch, and leaned into it, kissing his palm. “I knew I made the right decision,” he whispered. “I love you, Ryan.”

Ryan blushed that attractive color Gavin was liking more by the day, and butted their foreheads together. “I love you too, Gav.”

They took a moment to enjoy each other, but Ryan's cock was still hard and Gavin wanted to find out how good pleasure could be when he was actively participating, and he drew Ryan in for another kiss, quickly parting his lips to sweep over his mouth. Ryan grunted, pushing forward, and soon he was on top of Gavin, on his knees to avoid crushing him.

“No matter what,” Ryan said, moving to mouth at his neck, “I'll be here for you. I'll protect you.”

Gavin dug his fingers in Ryan's back, urging him closer. “I know.”

They spent another few minutes kissing, enjoying each other's mouths, and then Ryan shifted down and his cock was pressing into Gavin's hip. Gavin trailed a hand down to slip over his boxers, and Ryan moaned when he took hold of his cock, squeezing a couple times.

“I want to see you,” Gavin said, mouthing over Ryan's neck. “Please.”

Ryan hurried to push his boxers down, and looked hopefully at Gavin, who laughed and obliged by removing his own underwear. Completely naked, Gavin admired the Ryan's broad build, the hair trailing down his chest. His cock was hard, and Gavin stared for a minute, before looking up at Ryan's face. “Can I make you feel good?”

“If it helps you too,” Ryan said, pressing over Gavin again to enjoy the friction of their bodies sliding together. “Fuck, Gav,” he moaned, fingers tight in the sheets.

“Lube,” Gavin said. “This'd be easier with lube.”

“Right--” Ryan got up, shushing a brief whine from Gavin. “I have some stuff,” he said, and walked to the dresser, digging around in the middle drawer for a minute until he found a slim bottle, holding it up for Gavin to see. “Oh, shit,” he muttered. “Do we need condoms? Is it-- I know you can't catch diseases, but . . .”

“If you have them.” Gavin wriggled on the bed, hand drifting over his cock, the sensors concentrated there forcing a gasp from him when he touched them. It wasn't pulsing, filled with blood, like a human cock, but it gave him enough feeling to get the job done. “Makes clean up simpler,” he added, as Ryan searched the drawer again.

He pulled out a condom, checking the expiration date, before he crawled back on the bed. Gavin cooed, drawing him in for another kiss.

“You sure about all this?” Ryan kissed his cheeks, his jaw, leaning up to push his nose against Gavin's temple. “Like I said, we can still back out.”

“Ryan,” Gavin told him, laughing, “I already feel better than I ever have, being in bed with you.” He meant it with every ounce of his being, and he hoped Ryan got the message, because he had no other real way to assure Ryan that he spoke the truth. Ryan always believed him, never doubted Gavin's words just because he wasn't human.

Ryan kissed him again. “As long as you're sure.”

Logistics turned out to be tricky, because Gavin wasn't quite the same as Ryan's past lovers. They spent a few minutes fumbling, rutting against each other and touching everywhere they could get, before Ryan picked up the bottle of lube again and looked down at Gavin, at his cock, and paused.

“Do I-- do you want to be fucked, or no?”

“Please,” Gavin said, leaning back in the pillows. “I know you'll take care of me, Rye.”

“Yeah, but.” Ryan sat back, legs tucked under him. “I'll be honest, I'm wondering if I need to prep you or not.”

A moment passed, and Gavin barked out a laugh, shaking his head. “No,” he said after a minute. “I don't tear the way humans do. If you use lube on your cock, you'll be fine. But.” He sat up, looking Ryan in the eye. “Don't go too fast?” Burnie had liked it rough, pushing Gavin into bed and skipping right to the sex, and even the amount of kissing and enjoying each other that Ryan had indulged in was foreign, but wonderful.

“Slow, got it.” Ryan kissed him, and grabbed the condom, putting it on before lubing his cock. Gavin watched, touching himself idly, until Ryan spread Gavin's legs and sat between them.

“I love you,” Gavin said, and squeaked when Ryan turned his gaze back to his face. “Sorry.”

“Don't be.” Ryan smiled, reaching up to trail his fingers over Gavin's face. “I love you, too. And I'm honored to be sharing this with you.”

Gavin nodded, unsure what else to say. Thoughts about his first days with Burnie, how he was used for sex almost immediately, came to mind, how often Burnie took him to bed and how focused he grew on his work after Gavin molded into his place in the house. He always told Gavin he cared about him, but the words felt empty when he barely even kissed him.

Ryan had his legs spread and was watching him, staring into Gavin's eyes with the bright blue of his own, and his hands were hot on Gavin's knees, sending that tingling warmth through his skin.

Gavin had never felt safer.

Ryan pushed in, and Gavin threw his head back, sensors lighting up with the stretch. He wouldn't be hurt like a human if Ryan went fast or thrust hard, but he went slowly just as Gavin asked, working himself in carefully, and asking how Gavin was when he bottomed out. Gavin checked his systems in the midst of it all, feeling himself heating up, but his temperature regulations were working, though having a bit of trouble keeping up with this level of activity.

“I'm good,” he gasped, sucking in air to cool himself down a little. He could feel his fan beating a bit too fast, working to cool what the water system wasn't.

“I can hear you,” Ryan said with a laugh, pressing a hand to Gavin's chest and rubbing gently. “All your motors and insides.”

“Well.” Gavin shrugged as best he could, with his hips in Ryan's lap and the cock in his ass taking away his attention. “Lot of activity, my body has to keep up. I think even after being fixed, I don't work the same as I used to.”

Ryan frowned at that, and moved forward carefully, keeping Gavin in place, to kiss his forehead. “You're still amazing,” he said, pressing another kiss to his eyelids. “You know your functionality doesn't matter to me, right?”

“Yeah.” Gavin reached up to curl a hand in Ryan's hair, tugging him down to push their lips together. “Now, would you kindly fuck me?”

Ryan grinned. “Will do, sweetheart.”

Gavin's lips parted, eyes going wide at the sound of the pet name, but then Ryan gave his first thrust and Gavin was lost.

His anatomy was different. Gavin had been designed to simulate pleasure from being penetrated, or from penetrating someone else, and he didn't have a prostate because it was completely useless for him. Instead, he had internal sensors, that lit up the response from his AI as Ryan worked himself in and out, and Gavin closed his eyes as he felt the pleasure building.

It climbed slowly, like electricity inside him, even higher because Ryan kept rubbing over his skin and tugging at his hair. His stomach was covered in thick brown hair connected to sensors in the follicles, to help Gavin sense the world around him, and when Ryan ran his hand down Gavin's abdomen, Gavin arched his back, murmuring pleas as Ryan continued to pound into him.

“What do you want?” Ryan whispered, biting at his jaw.

“I don't—” Gavin whined, clenching around Ryan's cock. “I don't know.”

“Come on, think,” Ryan urged him. Sweat dripped off his brow and down his arms, hands sliding where they gripped Gavin's hips to work into him that much harder. “I've never had sex with an automaton before, give me a hint or two.” Ryan punctuated his words with a hard thrust, and stilled, looking Gavin in the eye.

Gavin moaned and clawed at Ryan's shoulders, blunt nails doing no damage but getting the message across. “Don't stop.”

“And?” Ryan licked his neck, and sucked the skin. It was pliant enough to move under his tongue, although there wouldn't be a bruise.

“Fucking--” Gavin growled. “Touch my cock, then, _please_.”

“All right.” Ryan nosed his skin for a moment, and moved a hand from Gavin's hip to his cock, squeezing around it. Electric pulses rang down Gavin's body, and he hissed through his teeth, bucking his hips. Ryan steadied his hold on Gavin's hip with his other hand, and started thrusting again, stroking his hand over Gavin's length in the same rhythm.

Gavin didn't have a chance in hell of lasting much longer. Ryan thumbed the head of his cock and squeezed at the base, and Gavin felt the pleasure peak, body tensing and mouth falling open as he rode it out. He could sense warmth inside him, Ryan coming, and a minute later he was empty, being set down on the bed.

“Ryan,” he said, reaching out as Ryan stood from the bed. He left the bedroom, and Gavin's face fell, the familiar feeling of being abandoned settling into him. Ryan left _immediately_ , he hadn't even cuddled with him. Gavin bit his lip, curling up on the bed.

There were hands over him, and a nose in his hair, before Ryan kissed him. “Are you okay?” he asked quickly, sitting on the bed beside him. “Oh, God, did I do something wrong?” He put a hand under Gavin's chin, lifting his head so their eyes could meet, gentle blue irises thinned by his wide blown pupils.

“N-No,” Gavin stuttered, sitting up and moving so Ryan could pull his legs up on the bed, tucking Gavin close to him the moment he was properly situated. “No, I just-- I thought you were leaving.”

Ryan brushed a hand in his hair. “I was throwing the condom out and getting a washcloth.” And now that he mentioned it, Gavin could see towels in the hand not wrapped around him, resting by Ryan's stomach. “I'm kind of sweaty, and I figured leaving you with a bunch of bodily fluids on you wasn't a good idea. I want to at least make sure the areas around your access ports are clean.” He nudged Gavin's shoulder, pulling him backwards. “Roll over.”

Gavin obeyed, laying back and turning on his stomach, relief washing over him. “Sorry,” he said, “I didn't mean to freak out--”

“Shh.” Ryan kissed the back of his neck, running a hand through his hair. “Don't apologize. Just lay here for a minute.”

While Ryan ran the washcloth over his body, Gavin lay his head on his hands, blinking slowly. He'd had sex with Ryan, and Ryan was taking care of him. No words about how Gavin was a good boy that spoke as if he were some kind of pet, no rushing off to take care of something else, and no falling asleep immediately and leaving Gavin alone on one side of the bed.

The washcloth was warm, and when Ryan ran a dry towel over him afterward, Gavin hummed, wiggling on the sheets. “Okay there?” Ryan asked.

“I'm pretty content,” Gavin said, leaning up to look at him.

Ryan brushed a hand over his cheek, and stood again. “I'm putting these away,” he said, and held the towels up. “I'll be back in a minute.”

Gavin waited anxiously, watching the door, but true to word, Ryan returned only a minute later, crawling into bed and pulling the blankets around them. Gavin hesitated, waiting for Ryan to settle, and moved closer to him. Ryan opened his arms, pulling Gavin in. A hand settled over his back, the other curled beneath his head like a pillow. “Comfortable?” Ryan asked.

“Very,” Gavin said, tucking his head against Ryan's chest. “I'm . . . fuck, Rye, I don't know if I've ever felt like this. Burnie wasn't like this, ever.”

“Are you sure I'm not a replacement?” Ryan said, but his voice was relaxed, smirking lazily at Gavin.

He tensed anyway, looking up with wide eyes. “Of course not! You're wonderful, I promise--”

Ryan leaned down and kissed him. “I know. It's your point of reference. Just, try not to bring him up if you can help it?” He danced his fingers over Gavin's back idly, lingering around the edge of his access panel before moving away.

“Okay,” Gavin said, laying back on the pillow. “You're the one for me, Rye, you know that?”

“And you're the one for me,” Ryan said, kissing his cheek. “I'm tired, Gav. I'm gonna sleep, but feel free to do whatever you want.”

“I'll stay here.” Gavin curled his legs around Ryan's, tangling them together. “I don't have anywhere else to go.”

Tucking the blankets around them and shutting off the lamp, Ryan lay on his side, holding Gavin in his arms. Gavin breathed in his scent, warm human skin and fresh soap, and wanted nothing more than to smell it for the rest of his life.  


	10. prey upon the lonely

Anger did a lot of things to a man, and as the days passed and still no word of Gavin came up, Burnie's anger grew into a beast, a powerful thing that roared inside his head with every transgression, snapping at his coworkers and ordering his robots around. He barely stayed at home. Gavin had lived at home, and the empty furniture made his heart ache. Instead, Burnie poured his energy into his work, running tirelessly around the office and slogging through anything that didn't require he put a smile on his face. For the jobs that _did_ require a smile, such as checking in on the stores he oversaw and talking to people about buying new property, Burnie sent JJ, with his smooth grin and relaxed demeanor. JJ could handle people in almost any circumstance, including if he were as angry as Burnie had been this past week.

At his desk at work, Burnie pulled his glasses off, rubbing his eyes. In his desperate search, he'd wanted to go back to the old repair shop and interrogate the employee who'd reacted so strangely to his questions, but he simply hadn't had the time. He called the police every day, hoping for news, and it was the same answer. 'No, nothing new on your lost robot, we're very sorry.' It was getting to the point that when Burnie called, whichever police officer picked up answered him with a sigh, because they all recognized the number.

Burnie couldn't help being worried, after what he did. He wanted to find Gavin and apologize for being a piece of shit. He blew out a long breath, staring down at the papers in front of him. It was six at night, he'd been doing this all day, and the letters were starting to swim in front of him. He needed a break, anything to relax him for a minute or two.

Leaning back in his seat, Burnie put his hands behind his head, lacing his fingers together. Distractions almost never worked, but he could damn well try.

He remembered the first day he bought Gavin, the memory like a well worn shoe, rarely thought about but so familiar that it slipped easily to the forefront of his mind. He hadn't meant to buy a sexual model. He hadn't even meant to buy another robot. Burnie was scoping out some free space for a store that a fashion designer asked him to find, and Burnie had to oblige because the pay offer was too good to pass up.

He'd seen the nearby store by chance, advertising new robots at the best prices. They were sold in multitudes of places, from everyday electronic shops to malls to specialized stores that catered in the finest wares. This appeared to be one of the latter, and Burnie had found himself going inside without really thinking about it.

Gavin, pretty hair done up and eyes closed, still deactivated and leaning on the shelf he'd been placed against with straps around his arms to hold him up, called to him almost immediately. The manager of the store bragged about him being a foreign model, imported straight from Oxfordshire, from a man who'd been making robots since they first became popular. Burnie only had to spend a few minutes thinking about it before he was signing a check and giving the manager his address for Gavin to be delivered.

It was a combination of things, really. Burnie didn't have time to date, hadn't reached out to anyone in years. No one at his company appealed as more than a coworker or perhaps casual friend. In his younger days he went out to bars, hung out and had drinks, picking up the guys with the most appeal to bring them back to the apartment he'd had back then. But when he found Gavin, he was an established man with no time for those kinds of outings.

Years had gone by, and Burnie was more than a little frustrated with a lack of companionship. Staring at the pretty robot boy in the shop, the decision was easy.

He arrived the next day, and when Burnie had turned him on, the first thing Gavin said was near unintelligible.

“Hello, mate! Fancied a look at me, did you? I'm chuffed to be here.”

Burnie had opened and closed his mouth, unable to drag up words for the pretty robot with a thick British accent staring at him. He continued with, “Please select a name and set a default mode so that I can give you the best service you've ever seen.”

The word 'service' had set him off, remembering the procedure with his other robots, and Burnie went through the introductory process with Gavin before naming him-- Gavin was an uncommon name, and Burnie reasoned that he had to have something unique after all the colloquial chatter-- and Burnie set his default mode to resting. He could have Gavin awake and eager to please at all times, but he didn't think he'd use him quite that often.

Gavin had fallen into place in his house soon enough, and for almost a year, things were perfect. Burnie worked as much as he needed to keep his house running and his robots functional, and when he came home he could relax and have sex if he felt like it. No actual emotions involved, no partner to please, just an eager robot who listened to everything he said, and never asked for anything in return.

Until everything went to shit.

Burnie sighed and dragged a hand through his hair, sitting up. Gavin had confessed to loving him, something he most definitely wasn't programmed for. And Geoff, his trusted maintenance man, that Burnie went to when Adam couldn't fix a problem with the robots or when Adam himself broke down, had assured him when he looked at Gavin that nothing was wrong. Not even his AI had a bad bug, and the strange behavior, Geoff had said, might be a hidden defect that neither of them knew how to fix.

And, well. Burnie recalled a little too perfectly what had happened after that. He'd pushed Gavin out of his car without a care for what happened to him, and months later, he regretted that decision too much to bear.

If the police, or anybody else, found Gavin, Burnie would spend his whole life making it up to him. Longer than that, if he had to.

The only lead he had was that damn shop with that sketchy employee. Burnie growled, slamming a hand on his desk and curling his fingers into a fist. He hadn't bothered to go back yet, too busy and too hopeful that something would turn up on its own. But as weeks passed, he got more and more frustrated, and it was all he could do to keep from firing somebody just for the satisfaction.

He had to go back.

 

* * *

 

Joel recited numbers from the stock market the next day, standing in the upstairs hallway with his hands clasped behind his back and his mouth running over words without registering them. Burnie cradled his own head-- he'd clearly had too much to drink the night before-- and sighed with relief as Adam popped up from one of the rooms and rushed to Joel, working to calm him down from the sudden need to rattle off market numbers. Joel did that, occasionally, reading off stocks without Burnie telling him to, and Adam, designed to pick up trouble at the first sign, assured him that he could fix it this morning, no problem.

Burnie took his word for it and went downstairs.

Kara was in the living room, where he'd left her last night, searching through news reports and local police records from nearby areas. As much as Burnie might believe that the one particular shop had something to do with Gavin, he couldn't rule out the possibility that Gavin had run off to another town, or even been stolen and taken away to be sold somewhere.

“Have you seen anything?” he asked, sitting on the couch and watching Kara where she stood beside the coffee table.

“No,” she said, flicking her tablet off. “No word from the police or from searching town records. As far as I can tell, no one has seen Gavin yet.”

“Damn it.” As if he could hope for anything else. Burnie leaned forward, eyes squeezing shut. Still no word. If Gavin were roaming free, it wouldn't make sense to not have heard anything. Lost robots usually turned up in dumps or on the streets by now, taken by people who wanted to use or sell them. Police combed the city for such robots, pushed by protocol to find them. Robots weren't just machines, they were protected artificial consciousnesses, and leaving them to die was not only wasteful, it was cruel.

Burnie swallowed around the lump in his throat.

If there wasn't any news yet, there likely wouldn't be any if he kept sitting around doing nothing. He had to take matters into his own hands, starting with that suspicious shop.

His phone rang in his pocket. Burnie started, and frowned, fishing it out. “Yeah?” he said, ready to spit at whoever it was that he wasn't going into the office today, damn it.

“Burnie?”

Burnie's mouth nearly dropped. “Matt?”

“Hey,” Matt said slowly. A creaking sound in the background sounded like that infernal squeaking chair he had in his office.

“Look,” Burnie said, “if this is about all my overtime, I--”

“No, no.” Matt sighed, and something smacked on wood, probably putting something back on his desk. “You've been working hard lately, it's fine. I had something to discuss with you, actually.”

Sensing that this would be a long conversation, Burnie got up and started making himself breakfast in the kitchen, phone pressed between his cheek and his shoulder. Fried potatoes sounded delicious, and he took out the peeled potatoes from their place in the vegetable drawer, cutting them as he listened to Matt speak.

“There's a free lot downtown, in this run down area? It looks like it might be a good place for prospective clients. The neighborhood sucks, honestly, but there's another shop right next to it that does pretty well, and I thought it'd be a cheap option. Can't sell all the expensive lots to everyone who asks, right? So I wanted to know if you'd check it out for me.”

“There's another shop next to the lot?” Burnie said, taking out the frying pan and pouring olive oil on it. “What kind of shop?”

“Uh . . .” The sound of papers ruffling came through the phone. “An electronics slash auto shop. I guess they repair shit and do bike repairs on the side to make up for the crap area. Not too many customers, I imagine, but they seem to do well enough. I poked my head in and talked with the owner, she's real nice. I spat some stuff to her about having a motorcycle that hadn't been running well.”

Burnie's brow furrowed, moving sizzling potato slices around the pan. “Electronics _and_ auto? That's weird.” But he could think of one place he'd seen exactly like that, his heart lurching. “How do you know this place is doing all right? They could be going bankrupt for all we know.” But Burnie would still take the excuse to head to that area again.

“They've got a robot,” Matt said. “They can't be doing too bad if they do, or they would have sold him off.”

Burnie nearly dropped his spatula. “They have a robot?”

“Yeah. Cute thing, too, skinny little kid.”

“I--” Burnie swallowed. “Describe him to me.”

A pause. “Okay?” Matt took another minute, and Burnie nearly burned his breakfast waiting for his reply, scrambling to flip the potatoes over as Matt spoke. “He's thin, like I said. Messy brown hair, kind of a big nose. I was surprised, though. He had a British accent, one of those foreign models, I think. They definitely would have sold him if they were going under, he'd get a nice price. So the market can't be too bad, at least on that block, so if we could check out the empty lot beside it--”

“Sure,” Burnie said, doing his best to reign in the enthusiasm. “I'll check it out today. I was going to go out and do some scoping anyway. If it's okay with you, Matt.”

Matt scoffed. “We both know my position as your boss is a formality at this point. Thanks, Burns, I thought you would be best for looking into this. I'll email you the address. Good luck.”

“Thanks.” Burnie ended the call, staring at the screen for a moment.

A shop matching the exact description of the place he intended to go back to, and now he had confirmation that they had a robot there, who could only be Gavin. A skinny male robot with a British accent? Burnie would eat his own tongue if it turned out to be anyone else.

“Kara!” he called, abandoning his breakfast after sliding the frying pan off the stove and turning it off. “Come on, we've got somewhere to go.”

“Yes, sir.” Kara followed him to the front door and out to the waiting car, where Gus had pulled up to take Burnie to work that morning. Burnie slid in the backseat with Kara and said, “Gus, go back to the electronics shop we checked out the other day.”

“What?” Gus turned to look at him. “That place in the bad neighborhood? I thought you checked that out already.”

“We're going back,” Burnie growled. “Come on, step on it.”

“Jesus, fine.” Gus rolled his eyes and started the car, pulling out of Burnie's driveway. Burnie settled on the seat, glancing at Kara, who still held her tablet and was looking at something on the holographic screen.

He let her work as they drove, fingers itching. That bastard had lied about having Gavin at the shop. Christ, Burnie had just asked if the man had _seen_ Gavin, and they had him working there, as if he were some common labor robot. Burnie stared out the window, letting out a long breath through his nose. He couldn't guarantee he wouldn't punch that sucker when he saw him again.

When they got to the neighborhood and Burnie started to recognize buildings, he sat up. “Stay alert,” he told Kara, and she nodded, putting away her tablet. Burnie would need all the help he could get, and Kara had Gavin's barcode encoded in her. If anyone called them out, she could present a copy of it to prove that Burnie was in the right.

Gus pulled up to the street, and Burnie hurried out. If they'd lied about Gavin, then they knew who he was, or at least the man he'd been talking to did. Bunie wouldn't give them a chance to hide anything again. Kara trailed after, but Burnie outpaced her as he stormed through the garage and into the door leading to the main shop.

The door slammed against the wall when he shoved it open, and several heads turned to look at him. Burnie stood tall, proud, and glanced around the room. No sign of Gavin, or that guy he'd spoken with.

The redheaded woman approached him first. “Hi,” she said, tilting her head in a mock friendly gesture. Her shoulders were too tense, betraying her. “I'm Lindsay. How can I help you?”

“Burnie Burns,” he said, looking her in the eye. “I was here the other day about my missing robot. I heard someone say they'd seen him here.”

Her brow furrowed and lips pursed, and she crossed her arms over her chest. “I'm sorry, we don't have any robots here. We're not one of the fancier shops in town.”

“Really?” Burnie said, raising a brow. “And you're sure you haven't seen any around that might look like my lost robot? He's kinda lanky, brown hair? He's a British model, he'd be pretty damn distinct the second he started speaking.”

She shook her head. “No one like that around here, sir. I'm sorry.”

Burnie frowned, about to say something else, when the back door opened. Lindsay froze, and Burnie glanced up to see the employee he'd spoken with— _Ryan,_ he remembered-- coming through the side door. And behind him, a trace of golden brown hair, an arm with long fingers that Burnie would know anywhere, but then Ryan caught his gaze and gasped.

Ryan shut the door, the slam echoing through the room. Burnie growled and shoved past Lindsay, stalking to the door.

“Sir! You aren't allowed at the back of the shop!” Lindsay called.

Burnie couldn't care less. He wrenched the door knob, feeling it stop as if it were blocked. Ryan was holding it shut. With a hard grip and a firm twist, Burnie broke it from his grip and pulled the door open.

Wide eyed and hair whirling, he met Ryan's face, and stepped outside, around him, before he could be stopped. Behind Ryan, curled against the wall with Ryan's arm blocking his chest, was Gavin.

Burnie stopped, panting, and met Gavin's eyes. Gavin stared back, eyes wide, and god, Burnie could hear his motors humming, the way they did when he'd had Gavin with him, that endearing sound he'd missed so much. Gavin looked exactly the same, with bright eyes reflecting the light that hit them, that ridiculous oversized nose, and his hair falling over his face. Burnie's shoulders slumped, and he said, “Gavin.” He took a step closer, smiling despite his frustration just as the sight of him, lithe and beautiful as the day Burnie last saw him. “I found you.”

 

* * *

 

Gavin froze at the sight of Burnie, motors picking up, eyes wide as they trailed over the familiar figure. Something lurched within him, crying out at the recognition, and Gavin shoved it down as Burnie moved closer.

“I found you,” he said, tried to approach him.

Ryan blocked him, growling, shoulders hunched as though to serve as a shield. “I have to get to work,” he said, and took Gavin's hand, slipping past Burnie to go inside. “Hide,” Ryan whispered in his ear as they went through the door, ignoring Burnie's protests behind them. “I'll deal with him.”

Gavin obeyed and ran to the back room, the other employees watching him as he pushed inside and turned on the light. He could hear shouting, and left the door of the storage room open, peeking out to watch what happened.

He could see Ryan and Burnie, Ryan facing him now with his arms crossed over his chest.

“What the hell?!” Burnie yelled, staring down at Ryan. He was taller, wider, and puffed out his chest as Ryan stared him down. “That was my robot! That's Gavin!”

“He's not yours,” Ryan said, and he shifted, his back facing the storage room. Gavin slunk away from the door, wary of being seen, but continued to listen.

“Kara,” Burnie said, and Gavin's fingers twisted in the hem of his shirt. Kara, blonde and petite, the robot who managed Burnie's PR and organized his schedule. She would have all of his data. “Bring up Gavin's ID for me,” Burnie continued, sounding both angry and smug.

Silence, and shuffling. Gavin could hear the computer at the front counter as it booted up, and the tap of fingers on a keyboard. “There,” Burnie said, voice loud enough to carry across the room. “Gavin, ID number 417393228. There's a picture and everything, you fucks. You stole him from me.”

“You threw him out!” Ryan growled, and Gavin could imagine his hands, clenched and waiting to punch something. “He loved you, you fucking bastard, and you tossed him out on the street! I took him in because he was so _broken_ that his wires were falling out and-- he couldn't even see _color_. He wouldn't tell us who you _were_ for so long, he was afraid of thinking about it!”

A long pause, and Gavin peeked through the door again to catch a glimpse of Burnie, staring with wide eyes. “Well,” Burnie said. “I certainly didn't expect that much of my life to be exposed. But the matter stands. You took him in and fixed him, great. But he belongs to me and I'm taking him back. I made a mistake, but it's not your decision what I do with Gavin.” He turned, and caught sight of Gavin through the open doorway. “Gavin!” he called, and Gavin scurried away, hiding.

“Gavin,” Burnie said again, huffing with impatience. “Come here.”

“Fuck you,” Ryan snarled. “He's not going anywhere.”

Gavin shoulders tensed, staring at the floor as they argued. He was hiding, in this tiny room, while Ryan fought for him. If Gavin knew Burnie, the man wouldn't relent, and he sounded now as though he were prepared to go to war, ready to do anything to take Gavin away.

He could hurt Ryan, if he wanted to.

Gavin pushed the door open, and the shouting stopped as he walked up to Ryan, stepping close to his side. The other employees stared, Griffon and Lindsay standing nearby, ready to dive in if the fighting got physical, with the other employees scattered around them.

Ryan put a hand over Gavin's hip when he came up, rubbing it to soothe him and putting his nose in Gavin's hair. Bits of sensation ran down Gavin's spine, but his AI was too focused on Burnie, on the danger, to properly register any calm effect the motion would have had on him.

“Burnie,” Gavin said, looking him in the eye. The confidence he found there almost made him temble. “You can't.”

Burnie's eyes softened, meeting his gaze. “I have to, buddy. You don't belong here.”

“Yes, he does!” Ryan said, arm tightening around Gavin, tucking Gavin's head into his chest. “Burnie--” Burnie shot him a look, and Ryan swallowed. “Mr. Burns, please. We've built a life together. Gavin lives with me, we're happy with each other. Gavin likes it here, in the shop. I took him and I didn't file a report, it's my fault he's even still listed as yours. He's meant to be here, with us.”

Burnie scoffed. “Then I have you to thank, for being able to take Gavin home.”

“He _has_ a home!” Ryan inhaled sharply, trying to keep calm, his hand on Gavin digging in so hard that he might have scratched through the clothing, if Gavin had human skin. His fingers were tense, the muscles almost shaking with how tight he curled them.

“I'll pay you,” Ryan said, going pale even as the words spilled out. “I can compensate you for him, please. Gavin belongs here, and you can obviously afford other robots to keep you occupied. But I only have Gavin.” Ryan turned to him, butting his face against Gavin's cheek. Gavin closed his eyes, leaning in to return the gesture. “Please,” Ryan said, and his voice shook with desperation. “We all care for him. We couldn't bear it if Gavin left. I can give you whatever you want.”

Gavin opened his mouth to interrupt, to protest what Ryan was offering, but was cut off by a loud laugh, and looked at Burnie.

“You'll _pay_ me?” Burnie said, and snorted, shaking his head. “I could probably buy out this store with what's in my bank account. And honestly?” Burnie gave Ryan a once over, eyes narrowing. “You couldn't afford Gavin in your wildest dreams. So.” Burnie looked at Gavin, and at the rest of the shop employees. “Since Gavin is mine,” he said, gesturing to Kara projecting an image of his picture and barcode from the computer's screen, “it's my decision where he goes. I'll just go ahead and take him.”

“No!” Ryan let go of Gavin to shove him back, shielding him from Burnie. “You can't take him, please, I--” Ryan choked, breathing hard.

“Ryan,” Gavin said, putting a shaking hand on his shoulder, trying to squeeze but finding even that much movement difficult as his motors spun hard, his body trying to keep up with his AI and the stress of the moment.

Burnie stepped out from behind the front counter, and stopped when Griffon took her place in front of him, arms crossed. “Leave my employees alone,” she growled, widening her stance to put firmness and power behind it.

“Miss,” Burnie said slowly, “with all due respect, I could have you reported for hiding a piece of valuable equipment. This is a nice little shop. Don't make me have it condemned after I charge your employee over there with theft.”

Ryan gasped. Gavin made a panicked noise and tried to soothe him, reaching for his hand to take it in his own, but Ryan was staring at Griffon with wide eyes, making tight fists next to his thighs, and Gavin dropped his hold.

“You can't--” Ryan started.

Gavin interrupted, “Wait.”

Everyone turned to him, and he hesitated. But Burnie had hope in his eyes and everyone else held fear, waiting for Burnie to announce that he would shut them all down because no one wanted to give Gavin up.

He met Ryan's gaze, wide and warm and everything he'd ever wanted. They had spent months together and Gavin trusted him with his entire being. Ryan had fixed him, had saved his life.

Gavin could return the favor.

Stepping out from behind Ryan, pushing Ryan's arm away when he tried to block Gavin's path, he said, “I'll go.”

“Gavin,” Ryan tried, but Gavin glared and Ryan's mouth snapped shut.

Looking at Burnie again, Gavin said, “If you promise to leave the shop alone, and not to charge Ryan with anything, then I'll go with you.”

Burnie smiled, but Ryan grabbed his hands, fingers tangling together. “Gavin, you can't,” he said, and the way his voice cracked made Gavin wish he were physically capable of crying. Ryan pulled him close, wrapping him in a warm embrace. His arms clung around Gavin, like he could keep the world's dangers away if he held on tight enough. “We only just--” he started, burying his face in Gavin's hair, and the pleasant sense it gave Gavin made him want to curl himself in Ryan's arms and never leave. “I love you,” Ryan said at last, arms locked around Gavin's chest. “Don't do this.”

“I have to.” Gavin did his best to think rationally, to ignore how his motors spun, and focus on how Ryan smelled, how he felt, because he knew he wouldn't be able to see him again, if Burnie had his way. Burnie would put Gavin back in his house and never let him leave, like it had been before. “It's the only way to help you,” Gavin said, and forced himself to push Ryan away. It was like taking away the sun itself, the brightness of his life leaving him as he made Ryan back up a step.

Ryan let go, and Gavin met his eyes, leaning up. Ryan listened to the unspoken command, kissing him. Sweet and soft and just slightly wet from how often Ryan bit at his lips, everything Gavin had ever wanted in that kind of contact. He fisted his hands in Ryan's shirt, pulling him down to kiss him harder.

There were gasps and a few swears from the people around them, but Gavin didn't care. They could have hated him for this, and he still would have done it. “You saved me,” he said when they broke apart. “I won't let Burnie hurt you.”

“What the fuck?” Burnie said, and they turned in shock, so lost in each other they had almost forgotten where they were. Burnie was sneering, and narrowed his eyes at Gavin. “Don't tell me you fell in love with him, too?”

“Yes.” Gavin squeezed Ryan's arm, and stepped away, walking around Griffon to face Burnie properly. “I love him. So if you insist on taking me away, do it, and don't hurt him or anyone else here. I want them safe.”

“Gavin,” Ryan said again, begging, and Gavin could hear the tears in his voice, but he refused to look away from Burnie.

“Don't hurt him,” Gavin said again.

Burnie looked between them, and stared at Gavin a moment, tracing his eyes up and down his body. “Fine,” he said, and put an arm around Gavin's shoulder. It was a hard touch, his arm heavy, and Gavin almost bent underneath it.

Ryan called out again but Burnie's voice drowned him out, loud and authoritative. “I'll be taking my robot,” he said. “And anyone who tries to stop me is going to be in serious trouble.”

No one moved, except Ryan, who walked forward with pure rage on his face, tears shining on his cheeks. Gavin held up a hand, and he froze.

“Leave it alone,” Gavin said, voice wavering, blinking fast with the need to do-- _something_ , but he couldn't cry, and Gavin could feel how hard his body was working, the strain on his AI as he saw the way Ryan was looking at him, as though a part of him had died. Gavin closed his eyes, struggling to command his voice. “It's b-better for you,” he said at last, unable to meet Ryan's eyes. “I want you to be safe.”

“Gav--”

“We're _leaving_.” Burnie pulled him toward the door, shoving past Ryan. Gavin turned back, looking over his shoulder, and Ryan reached for him, but then Burnie pushed him out the door and slammed it behind them.

Kara was beside them, Gavin so lost in his grief that he hadn't even noticed her, but she was tapping away on the tablet that Gavin remembered Burnie giving her shortly after he had come to the house. “I'm inputting Gavin as recovered on the police report, sir,” she said, glancing at Burnie and turning back to the tablet, fingers typing across the surface. “It should take about a day to process, if they put the information through on their end.”

“Good.” Burnie stopped beside the car, sleek and black as always. Gavin had never ridden in it much. Burnie opened the door and motioned for him to get in.

Gavin spared one last glance at the shop, the concrete walls and open garage, and bent down, sitting on the plush leather seats to scoot to the far window. Burnie got in beside him, and Kara afterwards.

Gus was driving, as haggard looking as he was the day he drove Burnie to Geoff's place, to get Gavin looked at for his emotional anomaly. He turned to look at this over the seat, eyes going wide when they settled on Gavin. “Holy shit,” he said, “you actually fucking found him.”

“I told you,” Burnie said, with a laugh. “That damn employee was suspicious as fuck. They _were_ hiding him. I should file a claim on them, cost me a lot of time and effort to find Gavin again.”

Gavin whirled on him. “You said you wouldn't!”

Burnie stared, and chuckled. “Yeah,” he nodded, “I did. And I won't. I'm just happy to have you back, Gavin. No need to waste my time with them anymore.” He ran a hand through Gavin's hair, pulling hard on the strands. Gavin whined, shrinking back. Burnie's hand paused in stroking his head, and drew away.

The car started, and they drove away from the shop. Gavin couldn't help the unhappy noise that escaped him, doing his best to smother it and failing. He was leaving Ryan. The man he loved, the person who helped him after Gavin had been thrown away like he didn't matter. He'd never again wake up to those bright blue eyes, his warm smile, or be able to help him in the shop and hear his praise.

Gavin brought his legs up on the seat, curling against the car door.

“What are you doing that for?” Burnie asked, putting a hand on his shoulder.

Flinching, Gavin shook his hand away and curled up tighter. He didn't answer, and Burnie didn't ask again. Gavin let himself focus on the thrum of the car, the motion of turning down the streets, as his hands wrapped around his legs.

“Are you going to work today, sir?” Kara asked. The sound of her tapping on the tablet had vanished.

“Eh,” Burnie said, “I can be a little late. Matt just wants me checking out that lot, and we have to take Gavin home first.”

Gavin's heart lifted for a second, until he realized where 'home' really meant. He wasn't going back to Ryan's house. He'd be in Burnie's mansion, left alone while Burnie worked.

Old habits died hard. Gavin buried his face against the car door and closed his eyes.

When they stopped, Gavin hesitated to uncurl from the seat and get out of the car, but Burnie tugged insistently on his arm and he followed, crawling across the seat to step out on Burnie's side. Gus had parked the car in the driveway and got out with them, leaning against the door as he pulled an energy bar from his pocket, to wait for Burnie's return.

Inside, the house was eerily identical to the way it had been when Gavin left. The same knick knacks on the shelves, the same ugly magenta rug, the same high windows. Even the light fixture above his head, always too bright for his taste. He wasn't sure what he might have expected; Gavin hadn't thought he would ever come back here.

He kept his distance as he followed Burnie farther in the house, walking a few feet behind him while Burnie chatted with Kara about what he wanted her to do about the free lot he was going to check out. Thumps sounded upstairs, along with a high pitched yell that Gavin recognized as Joel, the academic model Burnie had converted to run stocks and keep track of his finances. He was always a loud one, even when there wasn't much to yell about.

Gavin had forgotten about all the other robots, what it was like to be around them. He tugged at his shirt, the first one Ryan had ever bought him. At least there would be someone to talk to, even if Burnie was never around.

“Well, Gavin,” Burnie said, sweeping his hand around the room. “Welcome home. I'm thrilled to have you back.” He pat Gavin's head, smiling. “Make yourself comfortable, I have to go back out to do some work. I'll be back this evening, and we can enjoy each other's company then.”

Gavin nodded, staring at the window.

Burnie turned to look upstairs, and called, “Joel! Adam! Get down here!”

A pause, followed by footsteps, and Gavin saw Joel and Adam traipsing down the stairs. Joel was muttering something and Adam had a piece of plastic in his palm, likely a replacement part for Joel, and was turning a screw in it.

Upon closer inspection, it was revealed that the piece was a little square with lines dotted around it, the fake tattoo Joel had on the side of his hand, and Joel's hand had a hole in it where the plastic had been. He'd broken the casing of his hand once, and Burnie printed a 'cut here' symbol around the edges of the casing that replaced it, as a type of joke.

They both stopped at the bottom of the steps and looked up, eyes going wide when they saw Gavin.

“Gavin's home,” Burnie said, patting his back. Gavin squirmed away from the touch before looking at his old robot companions.

“Hello,” Joel said, and continued across the room. Adam waved and followed him, still fiddling with the screws that had kept the casing in place.

No big welcome home, no surprise, simply a 'hello' before moving on. Gavin had gotten smiles and clapping when he was fixed and joined the team at the shop, but returning to Burnie's after months meant nothing?

He tightened his fingers into fists. So much for good company.

“Come on.” Burnie took his arm, and Gavin flinched, but let himself be dragged past the stairs at the front entrance, to the living room, the wide, open space he'd spent much of his time in while at Burnie's house. Burnie stopped him by the couch and gestured to the television. “You're welcome to use anything besides the kitchen to occupy your time,” he said, with a laugh. “I wouldn't want you burning the house down. But watching some movies should be fine.”

Gavin looked at the couch, and at Burnie, who stared with expectant eyes. He sat down slowly, and settled on the cushions, practically like clouds in comparison to Ryan's couch. His body sunk in easily, and he let out a noise of shock.

Burnie patted his head, stroking a hand over the shell of his ear. “There. Home sweet home, right, Gavin?”

Gavin said nothing, peering up at him.

Burnie gave him one more pat and bent down, kissing his cheek. “All right, then. I have work. Joel and Adam will be here, Kara is coming with me. Have a good day, Gavin.” With a final touch to his head, Burnie turned and left the room, footsteps echoing across the floor until they hit the carpet in the entrance hall, and got muffled.

A few minutes later, the door slammed shut, and Gavin was left by himself.

He ran his hands over the couch, so soft and plush, and could only think of the couch in Ryan's home. How they'd bonded in his living room, reading books and watching movies. How he slept there to relieve Ryan of the burden of giving Gavin the bed just because he thought Gavin would prefer the comfort.

They'd shared a lot of kisses and affection on that couch, before Gavin insisted on having sex and was stunned by the care Ryan took with him.

Burnie had kissed Gavin on his own couch, but the memory was distant, and Gavin closed his eyes against it. He'd practically fallen in love with Burnie in this _room_ , bonding with him as Burnie relaxed from a long day of work or Gavin watched something on the television while Burnie opened up his laptop.

Would he see that Burnie again, or would he be confronted with more of the workaholic that he hated?

Gavin hoped for the latter, or else being torn away from Ryan would be a worse nightmare than it already was.

Someone walked in, and Gavin turned to see Joel beside him, scratching at the panel on his hand that Adam had replaced. It stood out against the rest of his skin, hard plastic against the soft material that robot skin was usually made out of, and the dotted line drew even more attention to it. Adam had vanished, and Joel was muttering again, before he caught sight of Gavin and met his eyes.

“Hi,” Gavin said, curled up on the end of the couch.

“Hello,” Joel said again, dropping his hands. A moment passed, where they simply blinked at each other. “You're back.”

“Yes.” Gavin pulled his knees up to his chest and tucked his chin between them. “I don't really want to be back.”

“Why not?” Joel leaned against the couch, still tapping idly at his hand. “This is where your owner lives. Where else would you be?”

 _With Ryan_. But Gavin couldn't say that. “Home,” he said instead. “I want to be home.”

“This _is_ home,” Joel pointed out, like it was obvious. And it should be, because Gavin had lived here in his early days and spent so much time with Burnie that he fell in love. He did what robots weren't programmed to do right here in this house.

But the memories were vague and cold, now.

More footsteps, and Gavin jumped at the sight of Burnie in front of him. “Sorry,” he said, panting. “I forgot something before I left, made Gus drive me back for it.”

Letting his legs fall away from his chest, Gavin asked, “What?” and got a grin from Burnie in return. Before he could protest, Burnie took Gavin's chin in his hand and leaned down, pressing his lips firm on Gavin's. Gavin made a noise, tried to draw away, but Burnie held fast and pushed his lips on him again, breathing hard through his nose, before breaking away. “Couldn't leave you all day long without a goodbye kiss,” he said, and ruffled Gavin's hair. “Okay, I'm leaving for real now. I'll see you tonight, Gav. Bye, Joel.”

Joel waved at him without moving, and Burnie practically skipped out of the room, calling, “Gus, let's go!”

Farther away, Gavin heard, “I _was_ going, you maniac! You're the one who made me drive back!”

Gavin turned away from the door, rubbing a hand across his mouth as he lay down. The kiss had been strong, hot, the way kissing Burnie used to feel like. But it lacked any of the gentle care Ryan had taken with him, how softly he had handled Gavin, like he might break if Ryan pushed too hard.

It still brought something back, though, and Gavin's motors started spinning hard as the remnants of the kiss seared over his lips like a brand. The smell of Burnie, so close to him, heavy and full and so dominating, swirled over his mind like a blanket. Gavin buried his face in the nearest pillow, so soft he nearly sunk into it, and rubbed as hard as he could to wipe the taste away.

He loved Ryan, with all his being. Gavin wouldn't let himself stop loving Ryan, even if they never saw each other again.

But the kiss was too strong a reminder: that Gavin had never fully gotten over Burnie, either.

 

* * *

 

Burnie kissed Gavin again when he got home, at eight that night, and Gavin struggled to forget how good it still felt.

Completely subverting Gavin's expectations, Burnie didn't ask for sex right away. He left Gavin alone, making himself dinner and sitting them both on the couch to watch TV or keep Gavin nearby as he worked on his laptop. Gavin ignored the way Burnie's smile sent flutters through him, or how he admired the way he cooked with an entire kitchen of ingredients at his disposal. His past life would stay in the past if Gavin had anything to say about it, even if his new life was similar in too many ways.

The memories only hurt more when they reminded Gavin not just of the Burnie he'd loved before, but of _Ryan_. Burnie contrasted him in so many ways, with his rough exterior and the way he always demanded kisses from Gavin without asking.

But watching him cook made Gavin think of long days spent in the kitchen with Ryan, trying to scrape up a decent meal from Ryan's meager fridge. Or how Ryan would collapse after work in a similar way to Burnie, but unlike Burnie, who eventually made himself food and took a shower, Gavin had had to remind Ryan of basic human needs. He had to tell him to make dinner or clean up, because Ryan forgot to take care of himself even as he watched out for Gavin's every need.

His third night there, Burnie came home late, as usual, and shed his coat at the door. Gavin had been in the entrance hall, staring out the windows and wondering how far Ryan's house was from here, if he could walk there in a single day if he tried. Not that it mattered, because Burnie would sue or press charges against Ryan and then Gavin would be back at Burnie's house without even the option of running away.

“Hi, Gavin,” he said, walking up to him and pulling Gavin in for a kiss. Gavin made a noise and shoved against his chest, and Burnie drew back, patting his cheek. “I've got to make myself some dinner and then we'll sit together, all right?”

Gavin flashed a look at the doorway across the room, to the dining room by the kitchen that Burnie never used. It would be easier to avoid his affection if they at least sat in separate chairs, but Burnie insisted on spending time in the living room and keeping Gavin on the couch with him. “Sure,” Gavin said, in reply, not meeting Burnie's eyes. “I'll wait.”

If Burnie noticed that Gavin had suddenly stopped watching him cook, he said nothing about it, giving him another pat on the head before turning to leave.

Gavin sat in the living room and lay on his side, pillow tucked under his face. If he could, he would shut down, just to hide from it all, but Burnie knew how to turn him back on and wouldn't stand for it if Gavin made himself unavailable. So he waited, until he heard Burnie approaching, and sat up.

Burnie had a heavy plate of meat and vegetables, and pulled the high coffee table up to the couch to eat. It was glass, and the shelf underneath it held various games and controllers. In the cabinet beneath the TV were several game consoles and even more games. Gavin eyed them, and turned away, staring at the screen and whatever Burnie had put on before he started eating.

Halfway through his meal, Burnie glanced over at Gavin, and hooked an arm around his shoulders. Gavin yelped and tugged against it, but Burnie pulled him close until Gavin was settled by his side and he could keep his arm tight around him. Gavin squirmed, trying to get away. He'd forgotten how _forceful_ Burnie was.

“Hey, shush,” Burnie said, putting his plate down to get a hold of Gavin with his other hand and pull him so their sides were flush against each other. “You're fine, I promise. Calm down.”

Gavin continued to struggle, gaining a few inches, and shoved at Burnie's arm around him. “Can I have some space, please?” he begged, feeling his insides start to work hard as his frustration ratcheted up.

Burnie pursed his lips. “That's ridiculous, Gav, come here.” He put his other hand around Gavin, looping both like a lasso, and pulled him, hard. Gavin cried out as he fell on Burnie, still shoving him away, and managed to slip under his arms and back up to the other side of the couch.

“Distance,” he said, flexing his fingers and taking a moment to feel out how his body was holding up. “Please,” he said, when he could tell that everything inside him was fine, for the moment.

Burnie frowned and shook his head. “Fine, whatever,” he muttered, picking his plate back up and shoveling the food in his mouth.

After a few minutes, Burnie sat up, and Gavin flinched, ready to fight him off again, but Burnie turned and called out, “Kara?”

She popped in within minutes. “Yes, sir?”

Gavin shivered, because it hadn't been that long ago that he answered to Burnie in the same eager tone.

“Are the reports for Gavin all taken down?” he asked, leaning back against the couch as he peered up at her. “I don't want the police bugging me about it when I've already got him home.”

“They should be.” Kara pulled out her tablet, tapping a few things on the screen before she turned it around to show to Burnie. “No, he doesn't appear to be on the 'missing robots' list anymore. They must have received your confirmation that Gavin is found.”

“Good, thanks.” Burnie waved a dismissive hand, crossing one leg over his knee and stretching his arms over the back of the couch. Kara bustled away, shutting off her tablet as she went.

Gavin watched her leave, an unpleasant feeling coiling within him. Was that how he looked when he listened to Burnie? Like a puppy willing to do anything for its master without reward? He wrapped an arm around himself, rubbing his bicep. Ryan had always asked him about what he wanted and never commanded Gavin to do anything. It had been a nice change of pace.

When Burnie finished with his food, they sat in silence for a while, before Burnie reached over again and tried to pull Gavin close. Gavin whined and fought him, batting at his hands and yanking himself away from his grip. Burnie sat up straight, brow furrowed. “Gavin, what the hell? I'm just trying to cuddle with you, isn't that what you like?”

“No,” Gavin said, sitting at the end of the couch. “Not with you.”

Burnie froze, staring at him. Gavin turned away, unable to meet his eyes.

“You're being stubborn,” he said, and shot forward to snatch Gavin around the arm. Gavin yelled and pulled, but Burnie had a firm grip, and he forced Gavin away from his end of the couch to sit next to him, one arm going behind Gavin to clamp over his hip, the other holding his right wrist firm to keep him in place. Gavin whimpered, fighting the hold. “Stop it,” Burnie hissed, and yanked on his wrist. “It's just fucking sitting together, Jesus Christ.”

Gavin continued to struggle, but when that proved fruitless, he turned away, staring out the wide window on the left wall, and the darkness that had settled outside. Gentle thumping on the windows sounded rhythmically, quiet at first, and then louder, and it took Gavin longer than he should to realize it was raining. It came down heavy within a few minutes, and the thunder started quickly, rolling through the skies with enough deafening cracks to cover up the sound of the television.

Burnie kept a tight hold on him, and when he decided to go to bed, he held Gavin's wrist tight to lead him to the bedroom. Gavin whimpered, pulling with each step, but Burnie refused to let go. Gavin felt the panic set in as he was dragged to the bedroom. After the display and the fight for closeness, surely Burnie would toss him in bed and take him, the way he used to. The only difference was that Gavin had been all too willing before he ran away.

But Burnie let him go once they were inside the room, shedding his clothes and getting into bed without another word. Gavin stared, open mouthed, and when Burnie didn't move, he slowly climbed into bed. Burnie had made them share a bed the past few days, the way they used to, but Gavin was usually able to shut down for the night while Burnie worked on his laptop or watched something else on the TV in his bedroom. Now, he could hear his heavy breaths, watch the too fast rise of his chest as he feigned sleep.

Gavin turned away from him and shut down, batting away thoughts of Ryan and how peaceful he had always looked when he went to sleep, in the tiny bed of the shabby house that Gavin thought of as home.  


	11. metal things on grassy fields

An entire goddamn week, and Gavin _refused_ to act normal.

He'd found him. Against all odds, Burnie had found Gavin, right back in that dinky shop where he'd thought he was. Burnie brought him home, like he was supposed to. Gavin was upset, but Burnie had figured he just needed to be reminded of who his true owner was. He still had the presets that Burnie put into him when he had first booted Gavin up, identifying Burnie as his owner and the one Gavin should listen to, the one he _used_ to listen to, before.

He'd had Adam double check Gavin's system the day after he brought Gavin home, just to be sure that nothing had happened to him, and Adam confirmed, Gavin was in perfect condition. Burnie was his owner, registered in title and in Gavin's AI. For all intents and purposes, Gavin still belonged to him.

Yet he wouldn't act like it. Gavin moped and barely answered questions, sitting with all his arms and legs pulled close. Burnie tried to engage him, had them watching movies and pulled Gavin into the kitchen to watch him cook like the old days, whenever he wasn't too tired from work. Gavin simply stared into space, as if he wasn't registering the world around him, and jumped every time Burnie so much as brushed up against him.

He'd dragged Gavin into his bed the first night and tried to kiss him, more than ready for sex after losing Gavin for so long, but Gavin hadn't looked him the eye, and after a few lackluster kisses and failed attempts to get a response by touching him, Burnie threw his hands up and let him sulk. He'd kept Gavin in bed, trying to hug him and sleep with Gavin tucked up against him. Gavin had shoved back, kicking at him, and after some harsh swears and growling, Burnie pushed Gavin away himself, to let him pout. He slept several feet away while Gavin shut down for the night. The bed was emptier with Gavin curled on the opposite side than it had ever been when Burnie slept alone.

The worst part was how he spoke. Instead of the bright answers and chipper smiles, Gavin's voice was monotone, and he stayed sullen, only looking at Burnie directly when answering questions, and then turning away, like Burnie's gaze hurt him. He'd thought maybe Gavin's AI was glitched, with too much to adjust to after being away from home and suddenly returning. After the display in the shop, he knew the love thing was still an issue, so other problems with the AI were to be expected. But Gavin functioned well enough otherwise. He understood questions and commands, even if he was reluctant to acknowledge them, and all his memories were intact. He could talk to Burnie about the old days, although now there was a sour curl to his lips when he said anything about it. He worked, but his poor attitude permeated everything Gavin did.

The longer Gavin moped and whined, the more Burnie wanted to punch the nearest wall.

He'd taken two days off work, spending time with Gavin, trying to play video games with him or suggesting they go out, but Gavin kept being pissy. Matt was on Burnie's ass about missing work, and he grit his teeth every time the phone rang, but ignored it for Gavin's sake.

They were in the living room, just after Burnie had eaten lunch, a week after Burnie had taken him home. It was Thursday, and Burnie had to work the next day to avoid Matt cussing him out for taking so much time off, but at least he could enjoy the time he had. He slung an arm over the back of the couch, slipping it over Gavin's shoulders. “Come here,” he said, trying to draw him close.

Gavin, with arms crossed and his legs curled underneath him, grunted, but let Burnie draw him in. He didn't wrap his arms around Burnie, the way he used to whenever Burnie gave him attention. “Gavin,” he said, and waited until the robot looked up at him. “What's the matter?”

“You know very well what's the damn matter.” Gavin turned away, staring at the TV, which had been turned off. Burnie couldn't stand to let it chatter in the background when Gavin was pouting like that, but he wouldn't converse with him, either, and they'd been left in awkward silence until he spoke up.

“Hey, don't swear at me,” Burnie said, giving him a light slap on the shoulder.

Gavin flinched and tucked his head down.

“Look.” Burnie took a deep breath. “Yes, I know why you're mad, but nothing is changing. Your AI is fucked up, you think you love that Ryan dude, and you're having a hard time adjusting back to the house. I get it, all right?” Burnie looked down, but Gavin was staring at the floor. “Give it time, you'll get over it.”

“I don't want to,” Gavin growled, glaring up at him. “And nothing is wrong with my AI. Ryan said so. He loved me and made me happy.”

“He's a fool,” Burnie muttered, brushing a hand through Gavin's hair. An involuntary shiver went through the robot, as it did whenever Burnie touched his hair. The follicle sensors were sensitive, designed to mimic human reaction. It used to be one of his favorite parts about Gavin, pulling his hair while he enjoyed his body. Now, with Gavin twisting away every time he fucking moved a muscle, it made his heart tense, like the moment in a movie before a character hurt an animal. It wasn't sexy, it was fucking heartbreaking.

He dropped his hand back to Gavin's side. “No self respecting person falls in love with a robot,” he added, frowning at Gavin's pout.

“As if that matters to me,” Gavin said, with a snort. “I'm not going to run away, so you don't have to cling so hard. I agreed to come back; I never said I would be happy about it.”

Burnie sighed, squeezing Gavin's shoulder, but the robot still didn't respond. He was leaning as far away from Burnie as he could manage while tucked into Burnie's side, hunched forward rather than sitting close to him or letting his body be supported by Burnie's arm.

“I hate seeing you like this,” Burnie said, quiet. “It's pissing me off.”

“Bring me home, then. You won't have to see me again, like you said you wanted when you pushed me out of your damn car.”

“You _are_ home!” Burnie snapped. Gavin jumped at the volume and turned wide eyes on him, shoulders pulled up as he ducked away.

Breathing hard, Burnie did his best to smooth himself out, relaxing his muscles and forcing away the tension that had bunched up in him. “You're home,” he repeated. “For both our sake's, get used to it, and stop moping.”

That did about as much good as yelling had. Gavin turned away with a frown.

Burnie tried talking about what he'd done while while Gavin was gone. Which was work, mostly. He'd managed to find some new lots for prospective shops and had done a few good deals that brought in a lot of profit. Gavin didn't fight him on it when he was dragged into conversations, but he didn't participate, either.

That night, Burnie took Gavin's hand and pulled Gavin upstairs, to bed, and Gavin plodded behind him with heavy steps. Burnie stopped at the top of the stairs, glared at him, and threw up his hands. “That's it,” he growled, and Gavin looked at him, his expression flat but his eyebrows raised with mild interest. “Stay in the guest bedroom,” Burnie said, flicking his hand to point down the hall. “If you're going to be so awful about all of this.”

He slammed his bedroom door behind him without looking at Gavin again, and Burnie didn't fall asleep for hours.

When he got up the next morning, the anger faded, bitter regret left in its place. Burnie put on a robe and went to the guest room, knocking on the door. There was no answer from the other side, and he opened the door slowly.

Gavin was nowhere to be found, the bed untouched.

Burnie's heart tightened, and he spun fast on his heels to run down the stairs. “Fuck, fuck,” he muttered, panting. He should have watched Gavin last night, should have guided him to the bedroom and had Joel or Adam watch him, he could be miles away--

He stopped, frozen, when he caught a glimpse of the living room through the doorway by the stairs, and saw Gavin there, shut down on the couch.

He'd stayed downstairs.

Burnie blinked, and quietly padded into the living room, breathing deep to calm his pounding heart. Gavin wouldn't stir until he spoke the right command or pressed the right button on his back, and he stood over him to watch his still body for a few minutes, how Gavin's hair had fallen in his face, the wrinkle of the clothes that Ryan had given him.

Gavin had refused to take the damn things off since he'd come back.

Glancing at the clock on the mantle, Burnie left to make himself breakfast. If he remembered correctly, Gavin's timer was set for eight thirty, enough time to get up and say goodbye to Burnie on the days he had work, and to say good morning as he woke up on weekends. Burnie had an hour until he woke up.

Surprisingly, Gavin got up at eight, and found Burnie, although he stayed in the doorway and watched him cook rather than stand close to him. Gavin didn't speak, and refused to look Burnie in the eye even as Burnie rambled over his breakfast to fill the silence. He said goodbye and let Burnie kiss him, watching him from the door while Burnie got in his car for work.

When Burnie got back that evening, just after seven, with tired eyes and sore muscles, he had to search for a long time before he found Gavin. He wasn't in the living room or either of the bedrooms, and Burnie walked down the halls calling for him. The other robots weren't a help; Kara had been with him, and Joel and Adam had both been shut down a majority of the day to conserve energy.

Burnie found him in his home office, using Burnie's computer monitor. Gavin had plugged himself in with one of the spare cords and was browsing the Internet.

“Gavin,” he said, and Gavin flinched, closing the browser he'd opened. Burnie frowned. “What in the world are you doing?”

Gavin yanked the cord from the computer and rolled it up around his fingers. “Nothing,” he said hastily, and it was the most emotion Burnie had heard from him since he came home.

Burnie put a heavy hand over his shoulder, eyes narrowed. “Tell me what you were doing, Gav. Or I'll just look at the fucking browser history, idiot.”

Gavin made a small whining noise, and he turned away. “I was . . .” He paused and looked up, staring at somewhere on Burnie's chest. “I was looking up local theater shows.”

“I-- excuse me?” Burnie tilted his head. “Why in the hell do you need to know about that?”

Gavin frowned and stood from the office chair. “Because Ryan said he would audition if he had the time,” he said, finally meeting Burnie's eyes with a challenge in his own. “I wanted to see if there were auditions coming up, something he might be part of.”

Nostrils flaring and brow furrowed, Burnie reached out and grabbed Gavin's shoulder, holding tight. “Gavin,” he said, “you _have_ to forget about him. He's gone, and I'm your owner. Stop thinking about him.”

“No!” Gavin snarled, standing up. “I'm not going to forget about Ryan! I love him! And unlike you, he treated me with respect, so you can sod off!”

Burnie reached out and snatched Gavin by the shirt collar, pulling harshly. Gavin whined and tugged, but Burnie had always been stronger than him, and he held Gavin tight, glaring at him. “Don't talk to me like that,” he spat, and shoved Gavin back, sending him into the wall. “You're banned from using the Internet,” he said, watching Gavin straighten himself out, ignoring the tight feeling in his chest at the sight of Gavin so riled up at his own hand. “I don't want to see you hooked up to a monitor again unless it's under my direction, understood?”

Gavin nodded numbly, rubbing his elbow where it had knocked into the wall.

Burnie took him by the wrist and pulled Gavin from the room.

That weekend wasn't much better. Burnie left at noon to go shopping, leaving Gavin at the door as he walked to the car, driving himself because Gus had the day off. Burnie sighed as he turned down the streets, biting his lip. He hadn't meant to yell at Gavin; he'd sworn that when he found him, he would treat Gavin as well as he could. And he had been trying, but Gavin refused to respond. Burnie could only play nice for so long before Gavin's anger got the best of him. And he belonged to Burnie; he had a right to reprimand Gavin and correct his behavior.

Burnie repeated that thought to himself as he picked up his groceries and drove home, ready to make a big dinner and forget about his outburst.

Until he walked in and found Gavin with Kara's tablet in his hands, cross legged on the floor of the foyer with Kara fluttering around him.

“Gavin, Burnie has made it _clear_ that that device is for my use only--”

“I just need it for a minute!”

“Gavin--”

“Excuse me!” Burnie called from the doorway, and both robots looked up. Kara straightened, brushing down her pants and looking up at him with her head bowed. Gavin frowned from his spot on the floor, fingers clenched around the computer tablet.

Burnie put his groceries on the table by the front door and stalked across the room, ripping the tablet from Gavin's hands as Gavin protested. “I said,” Burnie growled, handing the tablet back to Kara, “that you are _banned_ from the Internet. What the hell were you looking for?”

“Gaming forums,” Kara said, before Gavin could speak. She was looking at the history on her screen. “He was searching for a username for online video game forums, 'BMVagabond'?” She looked up, brow furrowed, as she displayed the browser page on her screen.

“And what the hell is that?”

“Ryan's screen name,” Gavin said, still sitting on the floor. He crossed his arms. “He had some video games at his house. I wanted to see if he'd been playing recently.”

Burnie sighed, bringing a hand up to pinch the bridge of his nose. “Gavin,” he said, nearly shaking with the effort to control his voice.

He waited, and when Gavin didn't respond, Burnie looked down and raised an eyebrow at him. “What, then?” Gavin snapped, shifting on the floor.

Burnie took a deep breath. “I can take you to theater shows,” he said, slowly. “I can play video games with you. I can do anything you want that that Ryan guy used to do with you, and I can do it _better_ because I have the money to spare.” He leaned down and took Gavin's bicep, pulling him up. “Ryan,” he growled, “is some poor mechanic who probably thought he got lucky when he found you. He wanted a robot, and that's what he got. My bet is that he tries to pick up a new one, now that you're back home.”

Gavin tensed, and smacked at Burnie's hand, failing to dislodge it. “That's a lie,” Gavin hissed. “Ryan loves me and he wouldn't replace me!”

“Like _you_ replaced _me_?”

Gavin froze, eyes wide.

Burnie snorted. “Exactly. You said you loved me and I told you that I didn't want a relationship with someone who wasn't human, so you found someone else with a bigger robot kink than I have. You goaded him into helping you and repeated the same weird glitch that convinced you that you were in love with me. Because it doesn't really matter, does it?” Burnie drew Gavin in and put a hand under his jaw, forcing Gavin to meet his eyes. “Your broken programming is telling you to love a human, but it doesn't matter who it is. You found someone new and got over me as quick as I told you 'no.'”

“Shut up!” Gavin squirmed in his hold. “That's not true!”

“If it weren't true, then you'd still want _me_ , and you wouldn't have this fucking piss poor attitude, you ungrateful little _machine_ ,” Burnie hissed, and yanked Gavin into a kiss.

Gavin shoved, pounding against his chest, until Burnie released him. Something hit him in the face, fast and sharp, and Burnie cupped his face, breathing hard. When he'd gathered himself, he saw Gavin clutching his hand, eyes narrow and burning with fury.

Gavin had slapped him.

“I'm not ungrateful,” Gavin said, voice wavering. “Do you know how much I wanted to show you how grateful I was? Do you know how much I dedicated my entire existence to you?” Gavin shook his head, closing his eyes briefly before he glared again. “But I got fuck all in return, so eventually I stopped being grateful. You know who _did_ take care of me, and who was happy to give as much as he took? Ryan.” Gavin put a hand over his chest, where his heart would have been if he had one. “Ryan gave me everything and I did my best to return the favor. He was a good person. You aren't.”

“I bought you,” Burnie said, rubbing his sore cheek. “I housed you and gave you attention.”

“You gave me the bare fucking minimum for a live in sex doll,” Gavin spat. “I'll admit, I-- I still have some feelings for you. It would be hard to forget completely. But if I had to choose?” Gavin stood straighter, puffing his chest out. “I would pick Ryan over you every damn time. Because he cared about me as a person, not a product.”

Burnie stared, lips parted but no words coming out, as Gavin glared up at him.

After staring for a moment, Gavin said, “I'm going to the guest room. Call me if you want to yell some more.” And he turned, stalking across the room and up the stairs. Burnie watched him, swallowing around the lump in his throat.

This didn't make any sense. When Burnie bought Gavin, he'd been assured that Gavin would attach himself to the person who programmed him. He was a personal model, designed to be companionable, and as a sex model, he was meant to provide physical attention.

It would take a massive amount of reprogramming to get Gavin to detach from him, to recognize someone else as his owner. The goddamn manuals that came with new robots said so, that it was to make sure robots weren't stolen. Any robot put in a new home had to have their AI changed significantly, sometimes completely reset, in order to acknowledge their new owners.

Burnie had thought that Gavin would return to his old self when they got home, when he was back where he belonged. But he kept fighting, ignoring Burnie and outright disobeying, in order to have some form of contact with Ryan. He didn't want Burnie anymore, but he wasn't supposed to be able to want anyone else.

Something had changed Gavin, while he'd been gone.

Burnie slumped against the wall, closing his eyes. They had checked; Gavin's AI functioned exactly the same way as it did before, and if he'd been reset, he wouldn't even remember being attached to Burnie. He might have memories, but he wouldn't display emotion about him, even anger, the way he was now. Somehow Gavin had worked past his own programming to find a new owner and discard Burnie's significance in his life.

Scraping a hand over his face, Burnie thought back to the day he'd forced Gavin out of his life. How he'd been ignoring Gavin up until that point. Having sex less often, refusing to cuddle with him, not responding to his kisses. When Gavin confessed his love, Burnie had thought he was broken, had feared that Gavin would need to be replaced. And in the end, he took it out on Gavin by shoving him into the street when Gavin begged for his feelings to be acknowledged. Burnie had run away by forcing Gavin to leave.

Standing up, Burnie walked across the foyer and up the stairs, trailing his hand over the railing and clenching his hand tight over the wood. Upstairs, he stopped, and looked down the hall at the door to the guest bedroom. It was shut tight, and probably locked. Burnie walked up to it and knocked, three times.

No answer came. Burnie sighed and knocked again.

A click of the lock, and the door opened an inch. Gavin peeked out, frowning. “What, back for another fight already?”

“No,” Burnie said, louder than he intended, and took a deep breath. “Look, can I come inside?”

“Depends on whether you want to call me a machine again and badmouth Ryan some more.”

“Gavin,” he growled, slamming his hand on the wall. “Let me in the fucking room, I'm not here to keep fighting.”

Gavin startled, and eyed him for a moment, before stepping back. Burnie shoved the door open and made his way in, pushing past Gavin to stand in the middle of the room. Gavin stayed by the door, arms crossed and lips pursed. He'd never shown that kind of attitude when Burnie had him. At least, not to his face.

“This Ryan dude--” Burnie started, and stopped, looking at Gavin, who didn't stop glaring at him. With a sigh, Burnie said, “You keep trying to find ways to see him. Even after I told you not to.”

“Yeah, I broke the rules, we both know that.” Gavin curled his arms up tighter. “Are you going to punish me for it?”

“What? No.” Burnie shook his head. “I already told you, I'm not here for more fighting.” He breathed hard through his nose. “So, you keep trying to get in touch with Ryan. You . . . clearly have _something_ with him.” Burnie scratched a hand through his hair. “I don't know how much stock I put in your love, because robots aren't supposed to mimic love, but I do know Geoff said there isn't anything visibly wrong with you. So if you say you love this dude, there isn't a way for me to fix it.”

“I wouldn't want you to,” Gavin growled.

“Calm down,” Burnie snapped, and breathed deep to settle himself. “What I'm saying is, there isn't an easy solution for this, and you keep insisting on doing the hard thing and trying to be with Ryan, rather than staying here without complaint. So, I guess.” Burnie bit his lip, and looked Gavin in the eye. “I want to know if you would rather be here, with me, in this nice, big house, with every resource you could ever want, or . . . if you'd prefer to be with Ryan, in that tiny shop, working all the time.”

He'd tried to phrase it as best he could, to highlight the problems with living with someone like Ryan. But Gavin didn't hesitate to stand up straighter and say, “You keep getting it wrong. You assume it's about the money.”

Burnie frowned. “Why wouldn't you want to live with a person who could give you everything?”

Gavin was shaking his head before Burnie even finished. “Ryan gave me everything,” he said, his voice quiet and measured. “If you had listened to me, when I lived here before, you might have been able to give me what I wanted. But you didn't, and Ryan showed me what it was like to have an amazing life. I'd rather be with him. It's an easy choice.”

Burnie's breath caught in his throat. He clenched his fists, and chewed the inside of his cheek for a moment, waiting. But Gavin said nothing else. “Are you sure it isn't . . . a mistake?” Burnie asked, feeling his throat get tight. “I'm still registered as your owner, you're supposed to--” He couldn't even finish the sentence, and looked away.

“Loving Ryan was never a mistake,” Gavin said with confidence, and when Burnie turned to him again, he'd dropped his hands, staring at him with those reflective, blue green eyes. Gavin's emotions had always been clear through those eyes, even if they weren't human.

He had given Gavin _everything_. A home, a warm bed, attention. Burnie had named him, for Christ's sake, and Gavin was going to throw all of that away for the sake of another person? A filthy, downtrodden mechanic who didn't have the means to protect him?

Burnie could protect him, could keep Gavin safe and happy.

Except, he wasn't happy right now. He was still watching Burnie with an expression that spoke of caution and fear, near the door, Burnie realized, in case he had to escape. He'd hit Burnie to get him to stop pushing, to make Burnie leave him alone. His cheek still stung with the memory of the slap.

Burnie had thrown Gavin out on the street when he asked for extra love and attention, unable to cope with the thought of a robot being so needy, when he'd bought him because Burnie had assumed he would be easy to care for. That was why he had all his robots; they made his life easier and he didn't have to pay attention to them if he didn't want to. But Gavin wasn't like that, and never had been.

Gavin wasn't meant to be here, with Burnie.

With another heavy sigh, Burnie shook his head and said, “You can stay here tonight. I'm going to think a few things over. Call me if you need anything.” He moved to the door, giving Gavin a wide berth, and left, shutting it gently behind him. He waited, watching, but Gavin didn't open the door or say anything more to him.

He went to the kitchen to put away the groceries that still sat on the table in the foyer, stocking the fridge and the pantry with slow, automatic movements, his mind elsewhere. It didn't even matter that Gavin had come home, that Burnie had found him after weeks of searching.

Burnie had lost Gavin long before he brought him back to his house.

 

* * *

 

Gavin startled awake the next morning, eyes flicking open and body suddenly alert. He jolted, and blinked. It was never so sudden when he woke up based on his internal programming; Gavin had been woken up by someone pressing the buttons at the base of his back.

He sat up, and turned to see Burnie dressed and sitting on the bed beside him, watching him intently. Burnie had never turned him on manually before, always letting Gavin self operate and using verbal commands to get Gavin to do what he wanted. Gavin stared at him a moment, keeping his eyes on Burnie's chin to avoid meeting his eyes.

Gavin hadn't meant to fight with him, and _certainly_ hadn't meant to slap him. But Burnie had been trying to control him and he hated it. He had to get Burnie off him somehow. Gavin regretted it almost immediately, but stood his ground and protected Ryan from Burnie's insults.

And then he'd asked that weird question, about whether Gavin would want to live with Ryan or Burnie. It hadn't been a contest, but it sent an unpleasant feeling through him, to know that Burnie was comparing himself and trying to make himself seem better. If he meant for Gavin to want him again, to make himself seem better, it wouldn't work.

Burnie continued to stare, for so long that Gavin squirmed under his gaze, ducking his head down and staring at the blankets of the bed instead. Burnie hadn't looked at him so intensely since the day Gavin had first been activated, when Burnie was shocked by his accent and behavior. He'd spent the entire day talking to Gavin and chuckling at the way he pronounced certain words, and there were many long moments where Burnie had just stared at him, as though trying to figure him out.

“Gavin,” Burnie finally said, reaching out and touching Gavin's shoulder as he sat in the bed. Gavin jerked back, but Burnie held tight, not trying to draw him close, just touching. Burnie watched for another few seconds, and said, “Are you still sure about what you said?”

“What I said?” he asked, backing up on the bed far enough that Burnie's hand dropped.

Burnie's expression fell, and he said, “When I asked if you would rather be here, or with Ryan. I can give you everything you want and make sure you're always in top shape, but . . .”

“Ryan,” Gavin said without hesitation. “I'd pick Ryan, always. I'm sorry, Burnie, but it's the truth.” Gavin could hardly lie, now, after all the fuss he'd put up last night. And if he were stuck here, he wanted Burnie to know just how much he'd fucked up the first time, shoving Gavin away. No matter how Burnie's kisses still roused him and how that smile, when Gavin saw it, still lit up a room. They were old feelings from someone who Gavin knew wasn't good for him.

“Ryan probably couldn't afford to keep maintenance on you,” Burnie said, his voice weaker.

“He has the shop,” Gavin pointed out. “He already fixed me once, he could easily do it again.”

Burnie flinched, and sighed. “I didn't even know you were broken. You look the same, not a scratch on you. What-- what happened?”

Gavin sat up, running a hand down his arm. The day he'd climbed into the repair shop window, falling over boxes and spilling onto the shelves, making so much noise that it didn't even matter that he'd snuck inside in the first place, was still vivid in his memory. Ryan had cooed at him like he were a child and approached him carefully when he saw how uncomfortable Gavin was. Even on that first day, Ryan had treated him with care.

“General wear and tear,” Gavin said. “I got hit by a car, once, and lost my color vision. My arms were cut up, wires hanging out. My knee was busted, I could barely walk right. I broke into the shop where Ryan works, to try and fix myself. That's how he found me, and fixed me. He didn't ask for anything in return. He even let me stay at his house while he fixed me up.” Gavin looked up, finally meeting Burnie's eyes. “And working at the shop was _my_ decision. Ryan never took advantage of me.”

Burnie nodded, laughing a little. “Wow, I . . . I never would have known. You've been through shit while I was gone. But Ryan did a lot for you.” Burnie bit his lip, looking away and back. “You still want to live with him?”

Something in the way he said it, disappointed but resigned, made Gavin's chest flutter. He sounded like-- but he couldn't hope. It would be too much, to hope for it after being wrenched away. “I do,” he said slowly, with a nod. “I love Ryan, of course I want to be with him.”

Burnie leaned forward, standing up. “Then,” he said, reaching out and patting Gavin's head in the briefest of touches. “I suppose we ought to take you back.”

Gavin's eyes went wide, and his lips parted, words sputtering out uselessly before he managed to say, “What? Are you serious?”

Burnie shrugged and scratched at his beard. “You've been fighting me for the past week, you don't want to have sex, or even cuddle, and honestly, if I hear you say you want to be with Ryan one more time, I'm going to lose it.” He sighed and shrugged, helpless. “I never wanted to hurt you, Gavin. I thought you'd be happy here.”

“I _was_ ,” Gavin said, looking down. “Before. I was happy before. I didn't mean for it to change. But Ryan--”

“Respects you and was kind to you, I know.” Burnie waved his hand to dismiss the matter. He swallowed hard, and shook his head. “I'm really questioning this decision. But I also hate seeing you mope all the fuck over, and if I'm not getting sex out of it either way, you might as well be with the dude who makes you smile.”

That made Gavin frown. He opened his mouth to say something, and shut it. This might be his only chance to go back to Ryan, even if Burnie's claims about the reasoning were shallow. “What about your ownership?” he asked, looking up again. “Ryan can't own me if you still have the papers.”

“In the process of being taken care of.” Burnie clicked his tongue. “I gave them to Kara and she's putting them through to the license management people. By tomorrow we should have a document for release that Ryan can sign, and then you'll officially be his.”

Gavin sat up, swinging his legs down to rest on the floor. “You mean this? You'll really give me back to Ryan?”

“If it'll get you to stop being fucking miserable? Yes.”

Standing, Gavin hesitated, and reached a hand out. Burnie took it, raising an eyebrow. Gavin tugged, opening his fingers, and put his own hand over Burnie's. The contact reminded him too much of the old days and he wanted to pull back, but Gavin made himself hold Burnie's hand for a minute. “Thank you,” he said, meeting his eyes. “I would really, _really_ appreciate being with Ryan again. I know you paid a lot of money for me and expected a relationship without questions.”

Burnie sighed, taking his hand away and tucking it in his pocket. “Fucking hell, I did pay a lot for you, but I'd be a shit to want to take advantage of you that way. I'm not _that_ horrible.”

Gavin shrugged. “I know.” It wasn't true, but verbally kicking Burnie when he was offering Gavin an out wouldn't help.

Burnie patted him on the head again. “I have work today, buddy, but I'll be back as soon as I can, and I'll have Kara print the papers when she gets them. We'll go back tomorrow.” He stared at Gavin as he stepped back, looking him up and down. “Stay good for me, okay? For today, and . . . after that.”

Gavin nodded, and Burnie smiled at him, before opening the bedroom door and slipping out. Gavin stood alone for a long time, watching the open door.

He was going back to Ryan's. Unless Burnie had lied; but even in his anger, Burnie had never been a liar. Gavin let Burnie know exactly how he felt, what he wanted, and Burnie actually took it into consideration, was _giving_ him back to Ryan, just like that.

Excitement lit him up from the inside out, with a tinge of sadness. Gavin left the bedroom and leaned over the railing by the stairs, but Burnie had already left. The driveway, visible through the large downstairs window, was empty. He'd left Gavin alone again, even on the last day Gavin might be able to spend time with him.

He might never see Burnie again, after this.

Gavin flexed his fingers over the railing. As much as he wanted to go back, and knew that Burnie was a forceful person that had put himself above Gavin's needs for the longest time, it would be hard to forget. But it'd be easier after Gavin had Ryan in his arms again.

 

* * *

 

Kara had printed the release form at Burnie's office. It had a copy of the document Burnie signed saying he no longer wanted to claim ownership of Gavin, as well as the paper Ryan would have to sign, to agree to keeping him. They would have to send it in to be stamped and processed, but after that, Gavin would belong to Ryan, and no one could take him away.

They got in Burnie's car, Gavin by the left door and Kara sitting between him and Burnie. The distance caught him off guard, but Gavin was too thrilled with the prospect of being with Ryan, and not putting Ryan at risk by doing so, to think it over.

The large houses turned to shops, and then to run down buildings, and Gavin itched in his seat as they approached familiar streets and store fronts. Gus pulled up to the street across from the shop, and Gavin practically leaped out of the car, swinging around the door and stopping on Burnie's side. He watched Burnie get out, flexing his fingers. “You aren't going to change your mind, are you?”

Burnie stood and straightened his tie, raising an eyebrow at Gavin. “This is the most animated I've seen you in two weeks,” Burnie said, reaching up to pat Gavin's shoulder and give it a single squeeze. “That's probably a good sign, so, no. I'm not going to change my mind.”

Gavin glanced toward the repair shop, Griffon's logo towering above the street. “And you won't bother Ryan again?”

Burnie shrugged, checking for cars before he started crossing the street, Gavin and Kara behind him. “I already have the papers signed, Gavin. There isn't much more for me to do at this point except make sure Ryan signs for you so that you have a nice home.”

The garage was open, a couple bikes sitting in it. Gavin could recall Griffon saying something about a biker's convention in town, how she hoped it would bring in extra business. Both the bikes in the garage were shining, well polished. The door to the main shop was firmly shut, and Gavin could hear noises from inside. Faint rock music, and clanging metal. They were busy, but nothing in the world could stop him from opening that door.

Gavin peeked in, cracking the door open a few inches. He saw Ryan at his workspace nearby. There were bags under his eyes, and he kept rubbing his face. His eyes were bright red, as if he'd been crying for hours. Something in Gavin's chest tightened, and he could feel his internal mechanisms starting to work harder as his worry ratcheted up. Ryan looked _awful_.

Without another thought, Gavin swung the door open completely and ran in, barreling into Ryan's side and wrapping his arms tight around him. “Ryan!” he said, burying his face in the crook of his shoulder, hands twisted in Ryan's sweater to anchor himself.

“Holy shit!' Ryan gasped, arms flailing. Gavin couldn't see his expression, but heard, “Gavin?!” before he returned the hug, pulling Gavin in tighter and gripping around his waist. “Jesus, this isn't another nightmare, is it?”

Gavin whined and pressed closer to him, digging his nose into Ryan's chest. _Another_ nightmare? The thought of Ryan having any nightmares at all made his teeth clench. “Ryan,” he said again, and broke away to look up, one hand detaching to cup his face. “Ryan, it's me. I'm back.”

Ryan stared at him with wide eyes. By now, the work in the shop had stopped, even the music turned off, and Gavin could almost feel the looks of the other employees. But he didn't care, because Ryan was right here and he was warm and _real_.

Before Gavin could kiss him the way he wanted to, Ryan looked up, and Gavin turned to see Burnie and Kara, standing in the doorway. Ryan's hands around Gavin pushed closer, keeping Gavin against his body, and a frown twisted his lips. “Burnie,” he growled.

Burnie held up his hands, placating. “Relax, dude. I'm not here to do anything bad.”

Ryan snorted, eyes narrowed. “How in the hell am I supposed to believe that?”

“He means it,” Gavin insisted, tugging the collar of Ryan's shirt to make Ryan look at him. “Burnie came here to give me back to you. He's got ownership transfer papers and everything.”

Griffon came up behind Ryan, her arms crossed over her chest. She glared at Burnie. “The last time you were here, you threatened to take down my shop. And you ruined the mentality of one of my best employees by taking away someone he cared about. You have five seconds to explain yourself, before I kick you out and ban you from my shop.”

Burnie sighed, lowering his hands. “Okay, look,” he said, and glanced around the room, meeting the eyes of every person currently giving him the death stare. Gavin nestled further into Ryan's embrace, a little hum of content escaping when Ryan's grip tightened in return.

Running a hand through his hair, Burnie said, “I took Gavin home with me, because he was my robot and I wanted to keep him there. That was my right, okay?” No one responded, or even looked particularly impressed. Burnie blew out a long breath. “So I got him home, but Gavin wasn't happy. He kept asking for Ryan and he wouldn't talk to me and-- okay, so he didn't like it. And maybe it's obvious to you people, since you know Ryan and you probably think he's a great guy--”

“He is,” Caleb shot out, and shrunk when Burnie turned his gaze directly on him. “Ryan's great,” Caleb repeated, scuffing his shoe over the floor.

Ignoring him, Burnie said, “Gavin used to be really attached to me, but he's not anymore. He obviously likes Ryan better, and I'm sick of upsetting him, so.” He shrugged. “I signed off on his ownership and brought the papers over for you to have. Just write your name down and he's all yours.”

Ryan's eyes narrowed. “What's the catch?”

Burnie slid his gaze over to Gavin, who froze in fear. Burnie could say anything, and Ryan would do it, if it meant getting Gavin back.

Burnie looked back to Ryan. “How long do you plan on working here?”

“I-- excuse me?” Ryan's brow furrowed, and he glanced down at Gavin briefly before turning back. “Why do you ask?”

Burnie glanced around the shop, tracing his eyes over the heavy lighting, the work tables, and the front counter. “This is a nice place and all,” he said, “but it's not exactly built for fixing robots. Which is your specialty, right?”

Ryan swallowed. “Yeah, it's what I'm best at. That's why Griffon hired me.”

“But there aren't any places for robots to be held,” Burnie said, sweeping his arms around the room. “No area for tools specialized to robot care, no computers, besides that one at the front, to double check their status and operating systems, not even an obvious sign out front, saying that it's part of what you do. A lot of people need a good mechanic to fix their robots when they break down, you know. My personal repair guy is one of the few I know of in the city. There's a real market for it.”

Tightening his hand around Gavin, Ryan said, “What the fuck is the point of this?”

“Ryan,” Gavin tried to chastise. It wouldn't be a good idea to piss Burnie off when he was about to sign Gavin over to Ryan for good.

Burnie only laughed. “I'm saying, in a town like this, with your skills, you could make a decent living as an independent, with your own shop.”

“My own shop?” Ryan shook his head. Gavin could see the disappointment there; Ryan had mentioned wanting his own shop a few times, but he didn't have close to enough money to afford it. It would be years before the pipedream even turned into a faint possibility. “I can't afford it,” Ryan said.

“Ah, but that's the thing.” Burnie gestured to Kara. “I'm part of a company that helps new businesses build themselves up, from finding lot space to funding their initial set up. Now, I want Gavin to have a good home.” Burnie tossed Gavin a small smile. “And I'm sure you're a good dude, Ryan, but that's not always enough. I want Gavin to have the right maintenance, to get the resources he needs, and for him to be able to indulge a little. I was able to give him the resources, but not the emotional support. You have the emotional support, but your resources are lacking.”

“I'm fine,” Ryan snapped.

Burnie barreled on like he hadn't said anything. “That's why your shop, the one you would probably thrive at if you had the cash to start it, is now at the top of my funding list.”

There were several gasps in the room, and Ryan's eyebrows shot up to his hairline. Gavin tightened the grip on his shirt, staring at Burnie with wide eyes. Burnie hadn't mentioned anything about this to him.

“Okay,” Ryan said slowly, “you'll have to go over that again for me. Please.”

Burnie chuckled and nodded. “It's simple. You sign for Gavin, become his official owner, and take care of him. But you also have to promise that you'll try your best to get a new shop started, to expand your specialized skills. I want Gavin to have a _good_ life, not a decent one, and that means an owner who is capable and has the means to do something about it if Gavin gets hurt again. I'll sign him over to you if you agree to work with me on starting a new store. I happen to know that the lot next to this place is open, and cheap, if you don't want to move too far.”

Everyone stared at him, unsure of how much Burnie said was in earnest. Burnie turned to Kara and waved his fingers, asking her for something. Kara produced the ownership transfer papers from the folder she'd been carrying, and Burnie held them casually between his fingers, shaking them to make a little wave of noise.

“Sign these,” he said. “And then these.” He lifted some of the papers at the back of the pile, papers Gavin hadn't seen. There were emblazoned with the seal of Burnie's company at the very bottom. He'd prepared them ahead of time, planning this all along.

“You can't back him into a deal he doesn't want,” Lindsay said, stepping forward.

“This is all written in his favor,” Burnie said, tapping the papers with his index finger. “He can break contract at any time if he feels that I'm not meeting his needs, and he'll get a majority of his profits until he had sufficient means to pay me back. And there won't be any interest on the funding, he won't owe a penny more than I give him.”

“Why?” Ryan managed, still clutching Gavin.

Burnie shrugged. “I want Gavin to have a good home, like I said. Even if it means giving up some of what I have to see that you can do better for the both of you. You don't even have to see the project through if it doesn't work out. But I'd like to try.” Burnie waved the papers again. “What do you say, Ryan? Would you want to work with me?”

Glancing down at Gavin, Ryan took a deep breath, and said, “If that's what it takes to get you to sign Gavin over, then, fine. I'll try this business thing, as long as I can break it off when I want to, and you stay the fuck out of Gavin's life.”

Laughing, Burnie nodded. “Yeah, that's understandable. Come on, we've got papers to sign.”

Carefully, Ryan detached himself from Gavin, and stood by while Burnie laid the papers out over one of the work tables. The other employees watched as Ryan took the sheets, going over them slowly, flipping them over and back to read each side more than once.

The first was the paper Burnie had signed to relinquish ownership of Gavin. It didn't require another signature, but Burnie had provided it to assure Ryan he wasn't lying. Gavin stayed near, but out of Ryan's way, tracing his eyes over the papers and Ryan's stiff form. Burnie's signature, in heavy ink, was at the bottom of the page. “Show me your signature,” Ryan said, waving the paper. “Prove that it was actually you who signed this.”

Burnie seemed to expect this, only nodding and grabbing the nearest paper and a pen Kara handed to him. He moved next to Ryan and slid the paper by the contract, signing his name on the scrap to demonstrate that it was almost exactly like the signature on the paper, that it hadn't been forged.

Ryan seemed to accept this, moving on to the contract that would give Gavin over to him. “I'm signing this first,” he told Burnie, who nodded again without saying anything.

This one Ryan read several times over, inspecting each paragraph for possible loopholes that Burnie could have slipped in, any way to take Gavin back. Gavin could see the suspicion and doubt in Ryan's eyes, but he'd read the contract himself. It was the standard ownership transfer sheet, used by people who wanted to give their robots to someone else, for a gift or to sell them. Ryan set it down without signing, and read the contract about the work Burnie wanted to start with him.

He spent almost as much time on this as he had the transfer contract. Burnie tapped his fingers on the wood of the desk, but otherwise didn't comment, and everyone else in the room was holding their breath.

“You weren't kidding,” Ryan said, as he finally put the paper down over the others. “That contract really does put everything in my favor.” He glanced at Gavin, and back to Burnie. “That's a terrible business strategy, though. You're doing it all for Gavin?”

“Every bit,” Burnie said, with a soft smile. “I don't think I care about him the same way you do, but I like him enough to want him acting happy. If it means giving him to you and making sure you can provide in case something bad happens, then, well.” He shrugged. “It won't be that much skin off my back, and I have enough other projects to keep my job occupied. One not-so-profitable job won't do any damage.”

Ryan slipped his hand over Gavin's, pulling him in. “And you want to be with me?”

“Of course!” Gavin beamed, putting his arms around Ryan's waist. “I wouldn't dream of anything else, Rye. I've missed you so much.”

A hand brushed through his hair, gentle and slow and exactly the way Gavin wanted, shivers tingling down his spine. “I've missed you, too.”

Gavin let go, patting Ryan on the arm, and walked up to Burnie to hug him, as well. Burnie went stiff, and Ryan gasped, but Gavin broke the contact quickly. “Thank you,” he said. “I'm glad you did the right thing, in the end.”

Burnie sputtered, and did his best to smile, though it came off awkward and crooked. “Yeah. I guess I'm glad, too.”

Gavin hurried back to Ryan's side, taking up his hands and squeezing the fingers. Ryan smiled, that warm sunshine expression that Gavin had ached for during his time with Burnie.

For the majority of Gavin's first year as a robot, Burnie had been his whole world. He'd rarely been able to leave the house. Burnie was always concerned with keeping him safe, never thinking to ask Gavin if he wanted to go out and experience the world. It hadn't been terrible, to stay with Burnie, cook with him, and laugh with him. There had been something missing, Gavin could see now. He'd loved Burnie, strong and true.

But Ryan had shown him what he needed. He'd let Gavin explore and grow, interacting with other humans and identifying things for himself, calling him an automaton instead of a robot, treating him as he would any other person. Gavin had bloomed under his warm touches and bright smiles, and he fell in love again, so much harder then before.

And he would get to stay with Ryan for the foreseeable future.

Ryan signed the documents. First, his claim of ownership over Gavin, which Burnie had to sign as well, and Ryan took the paper as soon as it was signed, tucking it into his pocket. They would have to get it notarized later, but with both signatures, Ryan could do that on his own.

Next, the business deal. Ryan hesitated over it. “When do we start with this?” he asked, waving the paper a little. “I _do_ have a full time job, and Griffon probably isn't thrilled with me planning to leave.”

Griffon put her arms up. “As long as we get to keep Gavin, I don't give a flying fuck at this point.”

Burnie laughed, and said, “I have to sort some things out at my company, it might take a few weeks. But I'll keep in touch with you and let you know what's happening. If you wanted, you could probably keep your job here.”

Ryan eyed him warily. “I probably will, thanks.” He took the paper then, reading over it a couple more times before he signed at the bottom, and pushed it over for Burnie to sign as well.

That was it. Burnie tucked away the business deal, smiling. “Thank you. For everything, I mean it.” He looked at Gavin. “I want him to have a nice home, and to be safe.”

“Yeah, well.” Ryan's gaze was hard and unforgiving as he looped an arm around Gavin's shoulders. “As long as Gavin stays with me. And don't bother him. Or me, to ask about him. Just, don't be a pest,” he settled on, “and I think we're fine.”

“Fair enough.” Burnie nodded to him, and then the group at large. “I'll take my leave. Gavin?” Burnie looked at him again.

Gavin inched closer to Ryan. “Yes?”

“Stay safe, buddy.” Burnie ruffled his hair, and the look that Ryan shot him made him chuckle again as he backed away. He left the shop with Kara in tow, looking at them one last time before he disappeared through the door.

The entire room held its breath, and when the door closed behind Burnie, his footsteps fading as he left the garage, they released it.

“Dude,” Lindsay said. “He just _gave_ Gavin back, after all that fucking fuss.”

“I don't even care,” Griffon said, shaking her head. “Ryan's got the papers now, I'll call the damn police if he tries to pull shit again.”

“I don't exactly want to see more of him,” Ryan admitted, still holding Gavin tight. “But the contract did have a pretty solid offer. I doubt I could get a loan from a bank with the kind of sympathy Burnie put in there.”

There was a pause, and Lindsay said, “You would really start your own place?”

Ryan shrugged, rubbing the back of his neck. “Yeah, I've been thinking about it. But I wouldn't want to go too far. I like it here, with you guys. I wouldn't mind still coming around if this thing actually works out.”

Griffon smiled and walked over to squeeze Ryan's shoulder and kiss him on the cheek. “You're always welcome, as our number one robot guy. Now come on! Back to work!” Griffon clapped her hands, and everyone jumped, Caleb and Kdin scrambling to get back to their work stations. Brandon stared at Ryan for a moment, before offering a quiet congratulations and returning to the front counter to work at the computer.

Lindsay and Griffon went to the garage, and Gavin was left with Ryan in the middle of the shop.

“I can't believe it,” Gavin said, sighing. “I'm back.”

Ryan turned him around so they were facing each other, cupping a hand over Gavin's jaw. “I'm so fucking glad, I-- I missed you.” He swept down to kiss Gavin, lingering for a long moment for he pulled away and touched their foreheads together. “I thought I'd never see you again,” he whispered.

Gavin put both hands around Ryan's neck, tugging him even closer. “Me too,” he admitted, and couldn't keep the waver out of his voice. “I love you, Rye.”

“I love you, too.” Ryan kissed his forehead and ran a hand through Gavin's hair, scratching just hard enough to light up Gavin's sensors. “Don't ever leave me like that again, damn it.”

Gavin grinned at him. “You'll get that paper notarized soon, right? Because the last time you needed to sort out legal work for me, you--”

Ryan silenced him with another kiss. “We'll go tomorrow morning,” he said, biting playfully at Gavin's bottom lip. “I won't ever let a fucking loophole take you away from me. You're stuck with me forever.”

“Forever,” Gavin repeated, giving him a chaste kiss. “Sounds good to me.”

 


End file.
